


The Choices Made

by ApostateRowan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Long, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 125,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRowan/pseuds/ApostateRowan
Summary: She came to Skyrim when a mysterious letter beckoned her to Riften to find out more about the father she never knew. This quest quickly becomes complicated as she is drawn into three guilds that soon complicate her loyalties. When the guilds begin to feud, Everlee is torn with the choices she must make. In the end, she fears these choices may just destroy her. (initial 63 chapters posted at the same time)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. The Chopping Block

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, the first 63 chapters were published on fanfiction.net so the dates there are accurate. The beginning started in 2012 so my writing has developed over the years. I will leave the comments I originally made in it (at least for now). The beginning is pretty cannon for the first two or three chapters but becomes original after that.

“Hey, are you ok? Awake now?” a concerned voice asked.

My eyes flew open and the trustworthy part of my brain was instantly alert and commanded my hand to reach for the dagger hidden in my armor only to cause my entire body to hurt, sore with stiffness and countless bruises. My eyes shut tight, fighting a wave of nausea that reminded me I hadn’t eaten a whole day before I had reached the Morrowind-Skyrim border. I took in a deep shaky breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you ma’am,” he said politely.

“It’s ok,” I said, bracing myself against the wagon with my shoulder to force myself into a sitting position.

It was all coming back to me. After a mysterious letter from someone who claimed to know something of my father, I had set of for Skyrim from Cyrodiil, going through Morrowind because of the blocked border. Morrowind had too many problems of their own to monitor their borders and the Legion could only be in so many places. The plan had been successful up until a day before I reached the border, when I’d run out of food and spotted no game. Then I had been attacked by bandits. Three days later, wandering and lost, I had run into a band of warriors who offered me aid but only hours later we had been ambushed.

“Ralof,” I said, recalling the young man’s name in the present.

“Yes, you remember, that’s good. Must not have been hit too hard then. I was worried you’d never wake up,” he said.

Ralof had been one of the dozen or so that had been making their way down the road. They were in a hurry but had promised to give me food and the few supplies that they could spare before pointing me toward the nearest village as soon as they stopped. I had been so grateful I had nearly cried. Ralof had even offered me his horse though he had been fighting and traveling along the road for days with little rest himself.

“Ralof,” a voice mocked. I turned my attention to the dirty man next to the blonde. He, like me, was not wearing Stormcloak armor. “You say his name as if he were some decent man. He’s a _Stormcloak_. If it weren’t for him Skyrim would have peace and more importantly we never would have gotten in this mess and we would be both free and I’d be nearly to Hammerfell on that stolen horse. Pssh, Stormcloaks, worthless, the lot of them.”

“Watch your mouth thief. We fight for Skyrim, with honor, whereas you take from innocents,” Ralof said, his voice growing dangerous all of a sudden.

The man snorted, not too afraid of the Stormcloak who was tied and a prisoner the same as he. “Innocents.”

Ralof recovered from his anger almost as quick as it had come on. “Anyway, I’m sorry m’am but I didn’t catch your name last night –”

“And I didn’t have the chance to thank you for your kindness, Ralof. My name’s Everlee. I usually go by Ever.” 

“Where are you from Ever?” Ralof asked, genuinely interested.

I smiled at him, despite the uncertainty of the future. He made me feel human, important, not some nameless captive. Despite the fact that we would likely be given a death sentence at our trials, he was taking the time to get to know me with what little of it we had left. Of course, once we were back in Cyrodiil it was likely some one would recognize me or I could get word out somehow. I had a number of friends in the capital city. I would be free then, my life stretching out before me, but Ralof…

The Stormcloaks were nothing but kind to me, nothing like the savages the guards in Cyrodiil described. And Ralof couldn’t be older than seventeen, a kid even to me, who was only five years his elder. After knowing him and his comrades, even for a short time, it would be hard to blame them for the problems for the state of their homeland.

“Cyrodiil, I’m from Cyrodiil. My family has been there as long as anyone can remember and my mother claims we were some of the first Bretons to settle permanently in the heart of the Empire. I was born in Leyawiin.”

“Your father?” Ralof asked. 

I tried to keep my face clear as I responded, “That’s why I’m here. I never knew him, didn’t care to either until I got this mysterious letter from someone who claimed to know about my family. They said it would be worth my while to make it to Riften and that in time, everything would be revealed. At first I thought it was a weird joke but curiosity got the better of me.”

“Oh, well I hope that you’ll find what you’re…I mean…” Ralof struggled to come up with the words as he realized that my entire journey was forfeit and my life might be too. The reality of the situation again broke through, leaving us in silence for a few minutes.

We slowed down as we came into a town.

“We’re stopping here?” Lokir surmised from the guards’ chatter. “Why would we stop here?”

Neither Ralof or I had the heart to respond. My stomach sank. There would be no reprieve after all then, not unless they saw Lokir and I for what we were, not Stormcloaks. I didn’t have much hope for it, they hadn’t found out yet. And even if they did, could I, could I watch Ralof as the ax raised and his life ended? I had only seen a few beheadings when the city council called on me to fulfill my duty as a citizen to witness and they were horrible, even though they were nameless criminals whose crimes were atrocious. Could I watch Ralof’s life end if mine were spared? Could I leave if they cleared my name, and which would be the bigger crime? To walk away and pretend none of this had ever happened, forget Ralof entirely, or to watch silently, not raising a finger to help?

“Get the headsman ready!” I heard General Tullius call, cutting off that train of thought only to open up a new one, a new emotion: rage.

There was no justice here. Everything the Empire stood for, every law, every thing I had known to be good and true from birth was being twisted. There would be no trial, they were going to murder us, there was no other word for it. Perhaps this would have been the sentence dealt if the law had been carried through, but it would have raised difficult questions, questions I guess Tullius and the Empire didn’t want to answer. I wondered if anyone would know of our deaths here or if they would report Ulfric and his men had died in the ambush. It would be much cleaner that way and who in Cyrodiil would doubt him?

By the time the cart stopped and we were out, I had worked up quite a fury, which was good, because otherwise, I doubt I would have had the strength to stand. Lokir freaked when his name was called and got himself shot with an arrow and I wondered which was worse, an arrow through the heart or losing my head. Luckily I didn’t have time to consider it much before they asked me to come forth.

“Name?”

“Everlee.”

“Race?”

“Breton.”

He eyed me suspiciously. I had enough Breton in me to be shorter than average, it was true, and many of my facial features were similar too but my build was something quite different, the makings of another race and I knew that’s what he saw.

“And?”

“And that’s all.”

“Half-Breton then, fleeing from some court intrigue maybe?” the man, said and I had the sudden urge to punch him in the face. For the first time I was glad for the restraints on my wrists. He turned to the guard though and asked, as was his duty. “She’s not on the list, what should we do?”

“She goes to the block too, forget the list Hadvar.” 

Knowing full well how illegal this whole procedure was and having seen that in her eyes beforehand I wasn’t surprised. Hadvar, looked at me expectantly, perhaps anticipating to see me cry. I looked straight into his eyes which seemed to unnerve him and I took the time to notice that he didn’t look much older than me. He, like Ralof, was a Nord, and all over Skyrim the youth were dying before they had ever much chance to live. I thought of my home, of all of my friends, and knew if I were there I would be sitting safe before a hearth, probably listening to my mom lecture me about getting serious about my magical studies and being a “proper” Breton.

“I’m sorry prisoner,” he said still looking down at his list, his voice was still firm but the words surprised me nevertheless. “We’ll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t correct him. I didn’t care where my body may or may not be sent after this and I doubted telling him my homeland would do anything but get my name mysteriously taken off the list as a precaution and I wanted people to see it. I wanted there to be a chance for everyone to know what had happened here and…and I wanted my mom to know why she’d never see me again.

The first soldier’s death sickened me. He had faced his death bravely, volunteering to go first to get the mockery over with. To my horror I was second, perhaps so no one could question why I was facing this sentence and second guess the captain’s orders. I gathered all the strength in me so my knees wouldn’t buckle and I could die with some dignity. The captain forced me down with her foot, to add insult to injury I guess. Where was I going to go at this point?

I wanted to shut my eyes when he raised the axe, I didn’t want to see my death or for my bodiless head to stare blankly at all the others to come after me but I could barely manage to breathe, let alone blink. 

And then the dragon attacked.


	2. Escape

I think my body must have collapsed with relief at my reprieve from the chopping block and the shock of the beast because the next thing I know I heard Ralof yelling at me desperately.

“Come on Ever, move, move!”

My mind and body snapped out of the shock, seeming to realize simultaneously the need for me to get out of the city as quickly as possible. I got up just as Ralof was inches from lifting me up himself.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” I said and we sprinted ahead.

We ran toward a turret, barring the door behind us. I had to fight a temporary wave of nausea seeing two injured Stormcloaks on the floor, bleeding heavily. The world seemed to sway a little beneath me and for a second I thought I was going to pass out.

“Ever, we’ve got to go!”

“Go?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to my ears, quiet, mangled.

“Up the tower, come on,” Ralof said. He grabbed my arm and gave it a shake. “Ever!”

I looked at him, his steady blue eyes holding mine. “Come on, there’s nothing you can do for them now. Let’s go, we have to find a way out.”

I swallowed, closed my eyes, and forced my head into place. I nodded and ran up the steps as best as I could with bound hands and stiff legs. A man sat on his knees at the top, vainly trying to loosen some stones to escape. I went to help him the same time the tower seemed to shatter around me. The solid tower stones flew from place as the dragon itself forced its head through. The man, terror in his eyes, somehow having not been crushed by the rocks looked at me. I started towards him, to do what I’m not sure, push or pull him out of the way, but Ralof threw his arms around my waist and flung me around. 

“No!” I screamed.

I hit the wall hard as the dragon roared, flame bursting forth where seconds ago I had been. Ralof protectively hovered over me, as I cried, my heart racing, sure I was going to die.

When the dragon fled to do more damage elsewhere, having played with us like a cat does to mice Ralof released me. Wearily I walked up the steps, the man was nothing but a corpse burned mostly to a cinder. Seconds ago a man, healthy and on the verge of freedom, now, nothing. It didn’t hurt any less than the two soldiers dying downstairs did, but somehow I didn’t feel myself on the verge of blacking out this time, as if death were already becoming common to me. Two men dead, two more soldiers dying downstairs, a whole village burning around us. For a moment I wondered if I hadn’t actually died and this reality was my punishment for whatever wrongs I might have committed in life.

“Everlee, you have to jump through,” Ralof said loudly, perhaps his hearing impaired from the dragon.

"What?” I asked. 

Certainly he didn’t mean he wanted me to jump through a hole in a tower, down a whole story through a fiery hole in the roof of the one below because that would be insane, not to mention deadly. 

“You have to –” Ralof began again, louder, but I interrupted.

“I heard you, I just, Ralof, what?” I stammered barely making any sense. “I can’t, you can’t expect, my hands are still bound, jump?”

I think he got the drift. He put his arms around me, and for a second I thought he was going to hug me but instead he bent down slightly, lifting me off my feet.

“You’ll thank me later. It’s the only way. I’ll see you on the other side. Be safe Everlee,” Ralof said as he threw me through the hole with perfect aim. 

I managed to grasp what was happening in time to throw my legs out to prepare for the fall, and somehow I landed on my feet, a much better prospect than even I had hoped for in those seconds where, for another time, I was sure death awaited. I wanted to scream obscenities at him for half of a second, but I knew through my surprise that Ralof had just saved my life. There was no way I would have made that jump with wrists bound. Which reminded me…

I barely had time to saw my binds off with a knife in the dining area, swing down to the first floor, and escape through the hole that used to be the back wall of the home before the place collapsed. With one path to take, I forged ahead.

Only to run into Hadvar. Several things I took in at once: 1) Both the boy and older man were injured and couldn’t walk far without help. 2) Hadvar was valiantly trying to rescue both. 3) The dragon was making his descent, his shadow becoming bigger and darker on the ground. 4) Without help, all three of them would die.

I cursed. As angry as Hadvar and the Legion had made me, he was saving lives, and they would all be dead if I didn’t act quick. So I risked my brief freedom and picked up the small boy in my arms. He clutched me tightly, probably making tiny finger holes in my skin. Without having to haul the boy Hadvar moved easier, and we all made it out of the dragon’s fire just in time. We helped both the boy and older man scale the wall. Hadvar didn’t offer to help me and I couldn’t get over on my own which left one option.

“Come with me,” Hadvar said as if I had a choice. I ran after him, he didn’t even look behind him to see if I was following his order. It was that or die and he didn’t seem to care which.

“Stay close to the wall!” Hardvar shouted as we passed some more destroyed buildings. 

Just then a dark shadow passed over and I threw myself at Hardvar, tackling him to the ground seconds before the wing slammed into the wall where he’d been before. His soldier instincts kicked in too quick though, and soon I was the one on my back, sword to throat. He looked behind me to where the dragon’s wing had indented the wall and released his tight grip on me, as well as the sword. 

He looked at me for a moment and I thought he would thank me or apologize but all he said was, “This way prisoner,” as he got up and ran again, back on course.

I cursed again. I cursed him for his rudeness and reminding me of my still-prisoner status, and me for not letting the dragon crush him. I ran after him though. After running past the Imperial Legion valiantly attempting to keep whoever was left in the city alive, we ran into Ralof. Relief flooded me and I ran faster to catch up to him, barely even remembering Hardvar beside me.

“You’re alive Everlee, good!” Ralof said. Then we both remembered Hardvar, whose sword was drawn once more. “Out of the way, you’re not taking us this time.”

Hardvar hesitated, rolling on the balls of his feet, alive with energy. He looked at me. “Come with me.”

“We don’t have time for this Hardvar, she’s not going with you to be locked in irons, her head on the chopping block as soon as we get out,” Ralof said.

“I wasn’t speaking to you Stormcloak,” he growled in return. Mustering restraint, he again turned his attention back to me. “I can protect you if you come with me. I can’t promise that I can do that if you don’t. Your name was on the list and…” Hardvar looked again at Ralof, unwilling to continue. Then he looked back at me, “The list may have been destroyed, but I can’t say. If you’re caught with a Stormcloak by the Legion they won’t hesitate to take you in.”

I looked at Ralof but he refused to say anything. I knew if I chose to go with Hardvar he would not hold it against me, the chance to have my name cleared, of being free, was guaranteed if I went with Hardvar, but only a possibility with Ralof.

“What happened here today wasn’t right Hardvar, no matter what side you’re on, it wasn’t justice, it wasn’t the way of law. Too much was already sacrificed before the dragon came,” I said, making my speech brief. “I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well I offered. That being said, I owe you my life twice, I will do for you what I can if I make it out,” he said reluctantly, as if it pained him to admit he owed me his life when he had not spared mine to begin with. He looked at Ralof, “As for you Stormcloaks, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovanguarde.”

We parted ways, and that was the last time I saw the city of Helgen, burning in its final moments.


	3. The Thief Stone

I stared into the fire I had conjured feeling as lost as I had crossing the Skyrim border. I had been here a month and while I had gotten no closer to Riften or information on my birth father or the mysterious sender, my entire life had changed. 

I would never be able to think of the Empire or the Legion the same again. My head had been on a chopping block. I had escaped a fiery death by an immortal legendary beast by inches. And I had killed a dragon.

Dragonborn, that’s what Whiterun calls me, my temporary home. They called me a hero, someone destined for even bigger and better things. Three months ago I was Everlee, the Breton who had a weird obsession with sword play and was only mildly decent at magic. Now, now I was Dovahkiin. I sighed, and laid down by the fire.

As I lay half-asleep in the fading light, Ralof and the standing-stone incident (as I referred to it in my head) replayed in my head…again.

“These are the three of the standing stones. They are said to aid those who choose to be blessed by them. Here are the stones or the Warrior, the Mage, and the Thief. Check it out if you want, I think we’ve earned a rest anyway. I chose the Warrior when I was eleven, never changed it to this day. It just felt right to me, you’ll know what I mean. One of these three stones will pull anyone in Skyrim that approaches them,” Ralof had explained, sitting down at the base of the structures.

Intrigued I looked at the Mage stone first. This was the stone my mother would want me to chose, a reliable stone for a proper Breton’s practices surely. I was only fairly decent at magic to her great frustration. I enjoyed it when I did it but I was never really drawn to it, not the way I was drawn to my other studies, studies I had chosen myself to do. I was much better at wielding a sword than any spell above novice level, and even better at bows than that. 

No, I wouldn’t be blessed by the Mage stone today, of that I was fairly certain. The only thing I felt looking upon it was a longing for the family I had left behind. I went to the Warrior stone, expecting something here, expecting to feel a pull towards this stone, its blessings wishing to bestowed upon me. I waited but only felt a small pull. This worried me. I had always assumed my calling was this and now it seemed I might be nothing special, have no calling at all, other than for lucky near-death escapes. I could chose this stone but it just didn’t feel…the way I wanted it to. Dejected I looked at the last stone, trying not to show the disappointment on my face as Ralof watched me with mild interest, wanting to see what I was drawn to.

The Thief stone. I lifted my gaze to it and felt for a second as if gravity had refocused from the ground to the ancient stone in front of me. Without thinking I took a step forward and raised my hand. I had never stolen anything, never done anything remotely illegal or stealthy until my escape from Legion custody that morning. Sure, I had an uncanny ability to sneak in and out of places unnoticed but that happened when you had a mother pushing you constantly toward something you didn’t want so you wouldn’t “waste your beautiful gift.” I was no thief, and yet, involuntarily my hand raised, inches from the stone, without thinking. Everything in me begged me to touch it, to accept the blessing of the Thief.

My hand hovered there, an inch maybe from the stone. My breathing was ragged. Some part of me wanted this more than anything I had wanted before but my mind rebelled. The Thief stone was for bandits, murders, and well, thieves. That wasn’t me, and that wasn’t what I wanted. But why, why then, did the ancient rock stir me this way?

Panting I dropped my arm to its side and stepped back, pulling my eyes away from it with great effort.

“I, I think we should go. If the Legion got out this way they could be coming any minute,” I said, my voice just above a whisper.

“Um, yeah if you want, to be safe,” Ralof said as he stood. 

I could feel him looking at me as we continued downhill toward Riverwood but thankfully he didn’t ask and he didn’t stop. If we had paused even for a moment, I knew I would be turning and running back to the stone, to the Thief stone. A month later it called to me even now, as if half asleep miles away I could feel it mourning me, longing for me.


	4. The Missing Orphan

A week in Riften and I had learned nothing new. It wasn’t as if I could go around asking “Do you know my father?” and I was reluctant to let anyone try to identify the writing of the letter that had changed my life, it seemed too personal. So the only thing I could really do was make my presence known (the dragon that attacked at my entrance took care of that) and ask where I could find somebody who might have more information. The answer was always the same: The Thieves’ Guild. And to gain access I would have to join.

Which of course I refused to do. So I was trying a different method.

“Look, I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. The Black-Briar’s are wonderful, and Maven is their matriarch. She’s really well-connected and a lovely lady. Please, just, just leave me alone,” the bartender said or the third time.

“I’m not looking for dirt on them I just want to know if you think there would be any information they would have about this letter-sender. Do they have connections in Cyrodiil, have you heard of anyone leaving Skyrim?” 

Finally he decided not to answer me. I didn’t figure he would. Frustrated my fingers twitched over the concealed dagger. I preferred swords but it was always nice to have “something up my sleeve.” There was no one else in the meadery and all it would take was a little intimidation to get some information, any information. I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.

I heard voices outside before I could push my conscious too far. I glared at him before exiting, walking straight past two large men boasting about something or other. 

Frustrated I sat on the wall and looked out over the lake. Just a little further from the city was the Morrowind border. My quest was close to failing, I had come all this way and had nothing to show for it except for a destiny I wasn’t sure I even wanted. I couldn’t leave though, not now, not yet. Even if I really wanted to, there were dragons, and everyone needed me to be here, even if they didn’t know it.

I heard rustling in the bushes behind me and turned my head slightly, not trying to tip off the spy that I’d heard. Sure enough someone was hidden in the bushes, a dirty little face. The child raised its finger to its lips, its eyes full of terror, indicating I should be quiet. So she was hiding but not from me. 

“You little wretch, come back here this instant!”

An old woman rounded the corner looking just about as terrifying as an ice wolf. “You, there, on the wall, have you seen a stupid little orphan girl? She seems to have run away.”

“I think I saw someone shouting about a stolen boat about, mmm, four minutes ago. If that was her she’d probably be in Morrowind by now. Sorry,” I said.

“Damn, well good riddance I say! I won’t pay for that thief’s things. I never knew her, you got that? If anyone asks, she wasn’t one of mine,” she said.

“Wouldn’t want to interfere.”

She huffed and went back inside. I didn’t say anything to the little girl, not wanting to frighten her. Finally, like a wild cat, she timidly approached me. 

“Thanks. I’m Lynn,” the girl said.

“Hello Lynn. I’m Everlee.”

“I know who you are. You’re the stranger in town that saved us from the dragon. Everyone knows who you are.”

“I suppose so. So what are your plans Lynn?”

“Um I hadn’t thought about it,” she said nervously, shifting side to side. I estimated she couldn’t be older than ten years.

I nodded. “Well, how about I take you to dinner outside the city?”

…

After setting up camp a few miles east of the city, Lynn fell asleep on the spare bedroll with little hesitation. When she awoke I was cooking the game I had hunted down as she slept. As the warm food began to make her feel better, the eight-year-old Lynn opened up very quickly. 

“What are dragons like? Do they breathe all breathe fire? I hear some don’t. Have you been to see the Greybeards? What is Whiterun like? You’re from Cyrodiil? That’s so cool!”

I answered her questions as best I could. I had never dealt with kids but I found her constant questions amusing rather than annoying. I wasn’t sure what I would do with Lynn, what we would do. Being Dragonborn is kind of a dangerous thing to be when you’re towing a kid around (or at all). I tried not to think about it. I was in Riften until I knew more anyway.

Finally one question caught me off guard:

“So was Grelod in charge when you were at Honorhall or was it someone else? It had to be someone else because you got adopted, but did she, like work there then?” 

“I didn’t go to Honorhall. I’m from Cyrodiil, like I said.”

“But you were born here right? I mean, that’s what the papers said –”

“Papers?”

“Yeah, the office records. Grelod keeps ’em locked up but when she goes out sometimes I pick the door and go in there. It’s interesting to look through them.”

“And you saw a paper with my name on it?” 

“Yes, Everlee, half-Breton, born in Riften twenty two years ago. You were left there seven days after you were born. It didn’t say the ladies name and it didn’t say you were adopted but there weren’t any records of you past one years old so I figured that’s what happened. When I heard you were in town I knew your name sounded familiar so I went and looked at your file again.”

I sat in silence again. Lynn saw a paper with my name. My name wasn’t common in Skyrim or anywhere in the Empire as far as I knew. Even if it were, how many half-Bretons named Everlee that were twenty two could there be? 

So either there was some big mix-up or…or what? I didn’t really want to think about it. I was adopted? Well, at least that’s what Lynn said she assumed. I tried to think of my mom, Elyssa, kidnapping me from an orphanage. My mom was sweet and proper and I couldn’t picture it at all. Yeah, sometimes she got scary-protective with some intense magic when her guild was threatened, but _kidnapping?_ No. So, so what? Was she my real mom or did she adopt me? 

There was no way to ask her now. Getting mail out of Skyrim had become impossible in the month I had been here. I had sent her a letter assuring my arrival but the carrier had warned me that would be the last week he’d be able to get in and out of Skyrim. The Legion was cracking down because of Ulfric’s escape from custody and the arrival of dragons.

That left me with one option, I had to find out on my own.

“The office, is that the only place Grelod keeps papers on the orphanage?” I asked. 

Lynn shook her head. “Nah, she wouldn’t want anyone getting her hands on our own papers or we could get adopted, that was the first thing I looked for. I think she keeps some in the basement, in a safe, but I can’t pick the lock to the safe so,” Lynn shrugged.

“And you don’t think she’d let me see what’s down there?” I asked, this seemed obvious but I needed to be sure.

“No, some people ask for their papers when they age-out of Honorhall but she says she’d rather be dead then let anyone but her see what’s down there. Even Constance hasn’t been down there and she’s been there longer than any of us kids.”

I nodded and let the topic switch as Lynn continued her steady flow of questions about my adventures in Skyrim so far. As she chatted I prepared myself mentally for what I knew I needed to do. I needed the information Grelod kept secret. I needed to know who my parents were and why I had disappeared from an orphanage, how I had ended up there and how I had left. And there was only one way I was going to get it: lockpicking.

I had to become a thief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker, this was so long ago it may have been before the DLC that allowed you to adopt children in Skyrim.


	5. A Shot in the Dark

It took two days for me to work up the courage to accept what it was I had to do. It took much less time for me to do understand exactly what it entailed. As soon as I considered what would help me and began to plot the excursion, it was like second nature. A second nature I had never known I’d had before and wasn’t entirely sure I was comfortable relying on now.

“You’ve only got three picks Ever, are you sure? I mean, if you just joined the Thieves’ Guild they would have more picks you could buy and –” Lynn asked for somewhere around the tenth time.

“Yes, I’m sure Lynn,” I snapped. 

She stilled and looked almost as lost as the first day I met her. I stopped pacing and let out a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. It wasn’t her I was angry at after all, it was this task. I knew Lynn didn’t have the same aversion to stealth tactics as I did. To her it was part of life, a necessity she had learned at the same time I had started learning archery and magic. I didn’t want her to feel alienated just because we differed here.

I leaned down so my face was level with hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to get angry. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to get tangled with the Thieves’ Guild just yet, not if I don’t have to, ok? I just, I just want to figure this out for myself.”

Lynn nodded, her shoulders relaxing. It still hurt me to see her pain, her instant reaction to my anger, to my tenseness. Less than two weeks ago that kind of behavior meant she would get slapped or worse. I had to learn how to keep calm on the outside better.

“Yeah, I get it,” Lynn said.

“And Lynn.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the picks. Don’t know what I’d do without you kid,” I said, standing up straight but not losing eye contact.

She grinned.

...

I hadn’t wanted to get Lynn involved in my plan but she seemed eager and I had to admit it would go much smoother with her distracting Grelod. She’d enlisted her friend Jared by promising him freedom for helping her. Once they’d roused the old woman out of the orphanage that night, I snuck in. 

I had to admit, the light armor felt more natural in a lot of ways. I had always preferred heavy armor because of my weakness with blocking, but with the new maneuverability the armor afforded, I could easily dodge most attacks. 

_Focus_. I thought. I passed the children’s bedroom and if any one of them were awake, none of them said a thing as I slinked toward the basement door. Almost all of my planning seemed unnecessary. It seemed too good to be true. Until I made it to the door.

To my surprise I found it slightly ajar. I listened hard, a sense of unease rising in the pit of my stomach. Of course it could have just been Grelod, she could have opened it right before Lynn and Jared had started their scene throwing rocks at her bedroom window but…

After a few moments I decided I couldn’t waste more time. I didn’t know how long Lynn and her friend could distract Grelod and the thought of the old hag getting her hands on Lynn scared me more than any potential threat the door could have.

In the basement it was easy to find the safe, which was closer to the size of a vault, taking up half an entire wall. I took a deep breath and tried my first pick, trying to sense the mechanism out.

 _Please, please,_ I prayed. But it was barely in at all before I heard it break. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t curse. On the second one I thought I was finally understanding what to do. I heard the lock moving, wanting to comply with me but just as I thought it would open _crack!_ I shut my eyes and counted to ten before trying the last one.

The safe opened.

“Impressive,” I heard a voice say behind me. 

Instantly there was a dagger in my right hand as I turned to meet the owner of the voice. It was obviously a man, his voice had given that away, but in the dark of the basement I couldn’t make out anything more.

“I was starting to think you might not show at all being so reluctant to associate yourself with the art of stealth. And then when you did I can’t say I expected much of you but you pulled it off there. A natural. I’m very impressed.”

I tried to calm my nerves, taking deep breaths. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here but if you don’t mind I came down here for a reason,” I said finally.

“I know. A little bird told me. She said you might need my help and I’ve always been fond of the girl. Apparently she was wrong about my assistance though,” the man said.

“Who are you?” I asked, ignoring the fact that somehow he had been in contact with Lynn without my knowledge. I knew I should have been angry with her for this but somehow all I felt was worry.

“You’ve met me before you know lass,” he said, his voice taking on an accent.

It took me a second to place but I recognized his voice now. “The market stall, you sell potions and poisons. Brynjolf.”

“Aye,” he said. “Now Everlee, I’m going to get lost because I doubt you’ll want to turn your back on me right now but when you have the time, stop by my stall. The Thieves’ Guild could really use someone with your skill and I’m sure we could be of much use to you too.”

With that he did leave and I waited until I heard the front door of the orphanage shut, a little loudly, as if to make sure I knew he’d gone, or that he wanted me to think he’d gone. I didn’t hesitate long to ponder that though, I had a quest that was probably minutes away from going wrong.

The vault opened pretty easily despite its size. It was also much more organized than I had anticipated. I got the feeling that no one, not even Grelod had been in it for awhile. The files easiest to find were the current residents. I grabbed all of them in my arms, eight fairly thick files. Then I started shifting through older stuff.

I finally found the folder I was looking for but I knew something was wrong the moment I spotted it. Unlike every other folder, it was thin, very thin. Of course I had disappeared a year into my stay but…

I pulled it free of the mess. Sure enough it was empty except a note which I snatched that read:

_Since you clearly can’t do the simplest of tasks I’ve taken these off your hands._

I cursed, tucking the note in my armor. I had come all this way for this. It wasn’t even two sentences. I was back to square one. I shifted through some more papers but I knew I wouldn’t find anything. I was too late, and by the withered edges of the note, I was late by at least a decade.

I closed the vault, not even bothering to lock it up. It had to have been at least forty minutes and I hadn’t heard anyone come back, which made me a bundle of nerves again. It either meant that Lynn and Jared were excellent at playing keep away from Grelod, or they had gotten caught.

I got my answer as soon as I left the orphanage. Jared who appeared about twelve years old, ran up to me. In the dim light I knew it wasn’t going to be good. 

“Grelod! She has her, Lynn! I tried, I tried to stop her I just couldn’t! I’m supposed to protect her, I -” Jared had begun choking on his words. I put my hand on his shoulder firmly.

“Where is she Jared? Where?”

“By the docks, please, I think, I think she’s going to –” Jared finally mustered.

“Jared, listen, go to my camp, Lynn’s told you where it is. Take the files with you. Get safe, we’ll be there soon. Go!”

I didn’t wait to see if he’d do it after dumping the files in his shaky arms. I ran towards the docks as fast as my legs could take me. I heard his voice cry to me or to the divines I wasn’t sure:

“ _Please_ don’t let her die!”


	6. The Edge of the Blade

I didn’t find Grelod right away. She had moved from the docks to the shore and she was waist deep in the lake. Her arms were thrust down, stiff, and I could see little hands wrapped around her elbows. Grelod was so absorbed in drowning the girl she didn’t even notice me sprint up behind her.

Anger boiled inside of me. My protectiveness of Lynn coupled with my fear enveloped me but instead of making my brain fuzzier with emotion it cleared it. Cold rage burned in my veins and mixed with adrenalin to make an overwhelming concoction. Without thinking twice I moved nearly silently through the water, Lynn’s thrashing blocking out any noise I made, but she was getting weaker. 

I reached around Grelod and put one hand over her mouth firmly holding her and pulling her up. In shock she went to reach for my hand but she didn’t have time before the dagger took her life. I heaved her as close to shore as I could without a second thought.

I reached under water then, feeling for the cute little girl that I had grown too attached to in the short time to lose now. I found her hand, weak, and pulled her up, out of the water. Her body was cold, but so was the water, and I prayed to all the Divines that she was alive as I dragged her to shore.

Luckily it didn’t take much to resuscitate her. She coughed and spit up water and then thrashed away from me. I didn’t feel the way I had moments before now. I felt drained and tired and hurt. Lynn looked at me for a minute and then threw her arms around me.

“Ever! You came!” she said. “I thought you were Grelod. I thought she had killed me.” 

She sobbed in my arms and I held her, trying to come off stronger than I felt. I whispered soothing things in her ears, trying to believe them myself. 

She pulled away a little to look at my face, “Grelod, is she…is she…”

I swallowed hard and nodded. I wouldn’t lie to her, not now. She hugged me again, tighter. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You were right. I should have just let you handle it but I wanted to help, I wanted you to see I wouldn’t get in the way. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh. You did help Lynn, you were great. It’s not your fault this happened, shh,” I said. _It’s mine. What have I done?_

“Don’t leave me please. I won’t get in the way I promise. I won’t be a burden anymore. Please don’t send me back, I don’t want to go back, I want to stay with you,” she was crying so hard she shook. 

“ _Please,_ ” she whispered.

I held her shoulders firmly and pulled her away again so I could look into her eyes. “You’re not a burden Lynn. You never were and I’m not sending you anywhere. You’re going to stay with me. Understand?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. I hugged her again, tighter than before, knowing that what I had said was true. I hadn’t been sure until then, but Lynn had come into my life for a reason, and no matter what it took I was going to make sure she stayed in it. She deserved that much from me after all she’d been through.

“Lynn,” I said after awhile. “I need you to go back to camp. I have some things I need to take care of tonight. You know where the spare weapons are, make sure Jared and you each have one. If anything too menacing comes for you, run for the city gates ok? I’ll see you in a few hours, I promise.”

She nodded and took off quickly, despite her shaking legs. I sighed and looked back at the water. I had a body get rid of.

…

It wasn’t hard to find Grelod, she was much closer to shore than I would have thought I was capable of. Using magic I got rid of the evidence with several destruction and illusion spells. It was difficult, I hadn’t practiced in a long time. Even then it couldn’t have taken more than an hour but that was still too long. Everything that had just happened was crashing down hard on me. 

After it was all done I tried to get myself to move, to go back to camp. I told myself Lynn and Jared needed me, that they were alone in the wilderness, scared and uncertain. But I couldn’t find the strength.

I knew I had only acted in self-defense, that if I hadn’t done what I did that Grelod would have killed Lynn. Even if I had just fought her, Lynn could have drowned in the time it took to deal with the old woman. She could have drowned as it was. I knew this, and I knew that the orphanage and every child there would live a happier and healthier life now that she was dead.

But I still couldn’t get over it. It wasn’t even so much that I had killed her that bothered me. In my short stay at Skyrim I had seen death and even caused it myself to bandits and thugs, murderers and thieves, and Grelod wasn’t much better than most of them. I had learned to deal with that sort of death.

No, it was how I felt when I did it. In all my life I couldn’t recall a time I felt more in my element, more alive, more powerful. I had felt wonderful and good when I had picked the safe, when I had killed a dragon, when I had hit my first bullseye with a bow, when I had conjured lightning for the first time. But this experience was more than any of that, the raw fire and clarity I had felt in that moment…

_What’s wrong with me?_

It shouldn’t have felt that way. I wanted to deny it and the guilt that was attached to it. Learning I was dragonborn had been easier to deal with than this! I felt my stomach tie itself in knots as fear overwhelmed me. What did this mean about me? What did this make me?

Finally my poor stomach couldn’t take any more and I emptied it in the bushes. I rolled away and then curled up in a ball and cried. Once I had truly drained myself of any emotion or thought, I got up and headed back to camp.

I was different. Now I felt all the urgency of the task ahead of me. I had come to Skyrim to discover more about my past, and who I was and the longer I’d been here the more questions I got than answers. That was going to change. Finding out my beginning was vital, essential. Finally I knew I was ready to do whatever it took to get that done. I couldn’t hide anymore.


	7. A New Dawn

When I got back to the camp I saw two very warn out kids huddled in each other’s arms outside a dwindling campfire. Jared’s arms were wrapped protectively around her and in one hand he held an Iron Sword that was in desperate need of sharpening, pointed away from them. He was rocking her back and forth like a parent, trying to comfort her, and her face was buried in his chest. Though he was trying to calm her, his face was wide and blank, a look of shock and fear over his features from the night’s horrors.

I nearly collapsed when I got into the tent. I didn’t say anything at first, though I knew I should, that I should tell them it was over and they would be ok. But I didn’t, and we sat for at least an hour in silence, recovering.

Finally I said, “Jared, can you hand me the bag over there?”

Jared stiffly moved his arm and did as I asked. I drew out a piece of paper, quill, and ink. Then I heightened the fire and examined two of the files laying scattered behind me in the tent. Finally I wrote very carefully, mimicking the deep ridged print:

_Ingrates,_

_Cyrodiil awaits. I am tired of caring for worthless children. Let Constance take care of the lot of you. Or not. You can starve for all I care._

_Grelod_

When that was done I turned to kids.

“Jared, I hate to do this, but you have to go back to Honorhall –”

“No,” Jared interrupted at the same time Lynn did.

“But we promised!”

“Shh, listen. It’s not forever, I will come back for you in about a week. We have to go back now though and sneak in before dawn. With this letter hopefully suspicion won’t be too high about what happened to…Grelod and soon things will settle down and be for the better. If Jared disappears too though, well that’s very suspicious, you see?” I said.

“Can I see your note?” Lynn asked, holding out her hand. I handed it to her and she looked over it once and nodded. “That’s good, a better forgery than mine even.”

She smiled at me timidly and I think I grimaced when I tried to smile back at her. I had accepted that I had some sort of gift for the stealthy arts, but I still wasn’t too comfortable with it. I also wasn’t too happy having two young kids involved in what happened. _I_ didn’t even want to be involved in it. 

_Murder._ That’s what it was. It was murder. Justified, maybe. Self-defense, sort of. But it was murder. We had aroused the old hag from sleep and gotten her out of the orphanage, broken in, stolen, and then killed her when it got deadly. No, not we. _I_ killed her. The phrase kept repeating. I killed her. And I had liked it.

I ground my teeth together. _I had no choice!_ I was saving lives, that’s what my destiny was, my title Dovakiin proved that. I wasn’t a vicious murderer, I did what I had to to save Lynn.

Knowing that argument with myself wasn’t going to be settled before daybreak I stood up quickly and offered Jared a hand.

“Please,” I said. “I promised you, and I’m not taking that back.”

Jared looked at me and nodded. He hugged Lynn tight and said, “Take care of yourself little sister.”

“Bye big brother,” she said. 

I raised an eyebrow. 

“He adopted me as a baby,” Lynn explained.

“Ah. Well, hand me all the files but Lynn’s too, I need to put them back. I wasn’t thinking when I grabbed them,” I said.

Jared nodded.

“Be safe Lynn,” I said and she picked up the iron sword Jared had discarded.

We walked back in silence for awhile. 

“What if Constance doesn’t approve of adoptions with Grelod gone?” Jared asked.

“We’ll have to convince her. If not, well, there’s always running away, you know you’ll have a place with me,” I said.

Another pause before Jared said, “I have a grandmother in Whiterun.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. They wouldn’t let her take me in though. They said she was too old to take care of me but I know they’re wrong. She was a Companion and healthier than my…parents. Even before…” Jared said but kept choking up at the end.

“Then we’ll go to Whiterun,” I said. “If that’s what you want.”

He nodded. And it was silent again.

He broke the quiet by laughing. “I think I know why Lynn chose us.”

“Chose us?”

“For family,” Jared said. “She’s always so talkative, she needs someone to listen to her. Well, and to take care of her. I guess I didn’t do such a good job tonight.”

“You did fine Jared. You’re still growing up you know. You’ll probably tower above me in a few years, as strong and tall as any Nord, probably stronger. You’ve been through more than a lot of people. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” I said.

I think we were both surprised at my elegant speech. It wasn’t always there, my ability to find the right words unplanned. I could still recall stumbling over my goodbye to Ralof before leaving for Whiterun. But when it did come to me, it was very handy. I looked at Jared, whose face had seemed to de-age a little, his shoulders relax, and I was glad that it had come when it did.

“You’re a good mom,” Jared said.

I came to a stop without thinking when he said that but started on quickly. I was certain he noticed but he said nothing about it.

“That’s how Lynn sees you,” Jared explained after a few more minutes. “I’ve been her brother long enough to know.”

“Oh.” 

So much for the gift of speech.

It wasn’t much longer before we were outside the walls of Riften.

“I’ll be in the city frequently so you should see me around and I’ll stop by in a few days to offer to help out at the orphanage. Hopefully it will all go smoothly. You might help by getting everyone to cause a little ruckus, not too much, just enough to make her want an extra hand. That’s up to you though. I promise it won’t be long before we’re headed to Whiterun. After tonight, I owe that to you,” I said.

He nodded and I could see the blush on his cheeks in the dim light cast from the wall’s torches. Everyone was still asleep and our trip back went very smoothly considering the chaos of the entire night. He tucked himself in while I put the files back and relocked the safe. 

I then went to Grelod’s room and packed her clothes and the few books she had in a bag I found there. The only other items she owned was a dagger which I thrust into the front door with my note on my way out of the orphanage.

Outside dawn had just started casting a sleepy gray light over the city as I walked over to the marketplace, and plopped myself down in the chair resting behind a stall.

I had a vendor to see.


	8. A Cool Head

"It’s nice to see you again lass, up early I see,” Brynjolf greeted me. 

The smirk on his face seemed to say that he had always been more certain of this outcome than me. I took a few moments to get a good look at him that I hadn’t in the weeks I’d been here. I had always thought the vender very charismatic whenever I entered the market place and I had thought more than once of befriending him, thinking he was just the sort that people told all their secrets too. I figured he was in his late twenties and that he’d look just as comfortable in his armor as he did in his wealthy street clothes.

His stance was confident but relaxed, not unapproachable as so many Nords in Skyrim came off to be who were skilled in their craft. His green eyes seemed to examine everything he looked at, quietly reflecting, but they also seemed playful and inviting. His red hair was clean and bright, which was refreshing considering the layer of dirt and snow that seemed to seep into everything in this foreign land. His arms were crossed and I got the impression that he was ready to break into dance or rob me blind, whichever he preferred at the time.

I couldn’t help being annoyed at his appearance the night before. But despite that and what our meeting here now meant for me (and the fact that I was still not comfortable with it), I couldn’t help liking him. Which of course irritated me further.

“You want me to join the Thieves’ Guild,” I stated, getting right to the point once I’d evaluated him.

“Yes, I think you’d be an asset.”

“I will join, on one condition.”

“Aye, and what would that be?” Brynjolf asked, eyebrow raised.

“I want help finding out about my past. I want someone to work with me and help me find out answers. It’s only fair. I do what you request, and you help me find the answers I need,” I said.

“Seems reasonable. I can’t promise you there is any information now, but if there is some, we’re the ones to find it.”

“Fine, so now what?”

“Meet me in the Ragged Flagon at noon.”

…

“So do you keep the crazy people for decorative purposes or do you just enjoy the company?” I asked, annoyed at my trip to the underground thieves’ den. A trip I had supposed would take ten minutes had stretched an hour.

“Didn’t give you any trouble did they?” Brynjolf asked. He smiled at me and I wasn’t sure if it was from amusement at my troubles or because I had made it despite the best effort of some madmen wielding fists and knifes.

I snorted. “I’m here aren’t I? Now what?”

“You’ve got fire,” Brynjolf admired. “I like that. And now lass, I’m going to introduce our newest member to Mercer Frey, our leader.”

I nodded and followed him. Eyes followed me as I left, somewhat disinterested. I wondered how many new recruits made it this far, and how many of them had died before their presence here was ever missed. In the short time I had been in Riften three thieves had been killed on botched jobs and it seemed that the talk I had encountered entering had confirmed as much bad luck.

“About my…request,” I began as we left the underground tavern.

“Yes lass?”

“I would prefer if that was kept quiet. How many people know why I’m here?”

“Just me, and anyone you’ve told,” Brynjolf said. He turned back to me after opening a secret passage. “You know this means you’ll be working with me, a lot lass, do you think you can handle that?”

He winked at me and I laughed. “I think you’re the one who should be answering that question.”

“Aye, perhaps you’re right. Ok lass, a few things about the guild before we meet Mercer Frey,” Brynjolf said as he continued to lead me. “One, don’t get caught. Two, we have arrangements with some of the guards so if you do get caught, you might get a break, maybe. Three, no killing. We’re not the Dark Brotherhood.”

I consciously kept my breathing steady. “Makes sense,” I said, inwardly wondering if he already knew about Grelod and if he didn’t, how long it would be before he knew, and what he would do when he did.

“Now, about Mercer, he’s a bit…gruff, but he’s the best lockpick in Skyrim, probably in all of Tamriel. Also he’s wicked with that blade of his. You’ll probably not want to get on his bad side but depending on his mood that might be hard not to do.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a wonderful partnership,” I said lightly, joking but I could feel my nerves rising as he opened the door to the headquarters. I still wasn’t sure I was ready for this even if I needed to know more about who I was.

Brynjolf held the door open for me and grabbed my arm as I entered. “Don’t be nervous. I get that this is new to you lass, but you have to be able to keep a cool head. It’s key to this life, and they’ll respect you for that,” Brynjolf said surprisingly gentle.

“Thanks.”

As Brynjolf led me through the room no one seemed to be paying any attention to Brynjolf or me. Despite this, I knew they were, just much more discretely than most were capable of. I wondered if they too were calculating how long my life would be now that I was one of them, if I had any potential.

“Mercer, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Brynjolf called as we approached.

The man who had been hunched over some papers looked up. The penetrating look caught my eyes first, as if he was seeing things none of us could see, seeing right through us to some unknown danger. Then he straightened and his glare focused first on Brynjolf and then on me. His eyes widened by the smallest fraction and the set of his mouth faltered, loosened, opened just slightly. The look was gone almost as soon as I had noticed it. 

“This better not be a waste of time Brynjolf,” Mercer growled. Without allowing Brynjolf a moment to say anything. “What’s your name and why are you here? This is no place for a foreigner now or haven’t you heard?”

“Everlee and I would assume the reason I’m here, in the Thieves’ Guild Headquarters, would be obvious,” I said, my voice oddly calm despite my anger.

“Don’t play coy with me. I don’t know a sane Breton or  _ half _ Breton that would travel to the land of the Nords in the middle of war,” Mercer retorted.

“You’re a Breton,” I said.

“I was born here. This isn’t about me child, it’s about you. I’m the one in charge here and I’d like to know why a new recruit with little to no experience being a thief would come to Riften and then join our little Guild. For all I know you could be a spy and you’ve been asking around town about rumors. So, why are you really here,  _ Everlee _ ,” he sneered.

“I am no spy though my real reasons for coming to Riften are my own, Frey. Right now I made a choice to come here and join so you can either accept me into your “little” Guild or I can be on my way.  _ That _ is your choice Mercer,” I replied.

“I don’t think we have room for Half-Breton trash who can’t hold their tongues when talking to authority,” Mercer said.

Instantly my sword was drawn and at his throat, his sword was out too but he hadn’t had time to raise it. 

The entire room had quieted except for the sound of a half-dozen thieves unsheathing weapons.


	9. Rumors and Prohpecies

I cooled my anger, surprised it hadn’t gotten me killed as I lowered my sword.

“Put your weapons down. We aren’t the Brotherhood,” Mercer shouted. “Get back to your own business.” He then quieted his voice and turned his attention back to me. “You girl, have quick reflexes but are very very stupid. Consider yourself lucky for next time we meet I will dispose of you. Brynjolf, escort her out.”

“Mercer, you can’t really believe those rumors about that stupid –” Brynjolf began.

“I  _ said _ escort her  _ out _ !” 

“Aye, come with me lass,” Brynjolf said. 

He led me all the way back to the lower section of Riften.

“What was that?” I asked once we were outside. “What was his problem?”

Brynjolf sighed and rubbed his neck. “I could ask the same of you lass, putting your sword to his neck. Not that I blame you really, after what he said, but that was intensely reckless. Color me impressed that you had time to draw your sword at all though, Mercer is deadly with that sword of his and you out-drew him. I’ve never seen anyone attempt to that and live.”

I didn’t respond to the semi-compliment. What I had done was nothing but foolish, letting my emotions get the better of me yet again.

“I’m amazed he let me live as it was.”

Brynjolf shrugged, his arms dropping to his sides. “If he wants to punish you he’ll do it another way. You submitted to him and so that was that…for now. We’re not the Dark Brotherhood.”

“What  _ is _ that, your  _ motto _ ?” I asked irritated.

Of course he laughed because that was likely the only response that could annoy me further while simultaneously making me appreciate his confidence. If our acquaintance outlasted the day I knew our relationship would always be this, a constant mix of emotions and reactions, being impressed and irritated at the same time.

“You said something about a rumor?” I continued when I had a grip on myself.

“Aye. See, some of the Guild are a bit superstitious. You hear about how we’ve been having bad luck of late?” he asked.

I said I had and he went on to explain how some thought it was a curse and that somewhere right when the bad luck had all begun rumors of a “prophesy” had surfaced.

“A prophesy?” I asked doubtfully.

“About a half-Breton who would come in and destroy the Guild,” Brynjolf replied as if he put as much faith in the idea as I did. “Now most don’t believe this and I haven’t ever picked out Mercer as the sort who would go for this sort of nonsense either but after that scene…”

I rolled my eyes. “Guess you dodged a tragedy then.”

So my whole trip had hit a dead-end with more questions than answers. Who was my father? Who had sent me that letter? Why was I morbidly attracted to the Thieves’ Stone and all it stood for? Why was I in an orphanage at Riften? Is the mother I had known and loved all my life not my biological parent?

“Look, I’ll try talking to Mercer when he’s had time to cool,” Brynjolf said. “In the mean time, I’ll keep my eye open for information to send your way.”

“Thanks.”

With that we parted ways and I headed back to camp, the whole day a loss. I lingered in the outdoor market after retrieving the bag of Grelod’s belongings from Brynjolf’s stall. I was hoping to hear the gossip I normally ignored. My life could very well depend on those rumors spreading the way I wanted so I stayed alert to it.

I heard snatches of conversation that kept getting lost:

“Did you hear –” 

“Grelod –”

“I hear she had a thing for –”

“Took off in the middle of the night.”

“A hunky Argonian miner!”

“Orphan kids –”

“Inherited a huge fortune!”

“Yes, much better off.”

Satisfied that whatever suspicions the town had about Grelod’s disappearance did not involve murder, I returned to Lynn.


	10. Slipping Away

“How’d it go?” was Lynn’s first question before bombarding me with ten others in the same breath.

I laughed at her enthusiasm, some of the tension flowing out of my body. It had been a long twenty four hours and I’d had more life-or-death situations as an attempted thief than I’d had the first day of finding out I was Dragonborn. I crawled into the tent and told her of my failed request to join the Thieves’ Guild, glazing over some of the finer details.

“So you’re not going to be a thief?” Lynn asked, her tone curious.

“Well, at least not a guilded one, no,” I replied.

“But Brynjolf’s nice right?” Lynn asked and I saw her cheeks turn red before my eyes.

“Oh, yes, we’re running off to get married as soon as he can get away from Mercer,” I said seriously.

Lynn’s expression was priceless. Her eyes got bigger than I thought capable and her mouth looked like a fly-collector. Also, she got pale enough to pass for draugr.

“Kidding Lynn, kidding,” I said quickly.

Lynn recovered as fast as only she could, instantly smiling and slapping my arm playfully. At eight I had a good hunch that Brynjolf was her first crush and likely the reasons she was so keen on me joining his ranks as inevitably they would see each other more often that way. 

I decided to give all quests a rest for the rest of the evening. The next morning I heard rumors in the market that Constance at Honorhall was searching for help and I offered my assistance, surprised at how easy everything had gone. I spent the day there, taking care of the kids who mysteriously respected the Dragonborn to stop their rambunctious celebrating of Grelod’s departure. I was also happy to find that Constance was working steadily toward opening up the orphanage for adoption and asked for my aid in setting up a system where we could interview potential parents and transport accepted applicants’ new children. The second day passed much the same and we set a date two weeks away when Honorhall would officially be open.=

Two days of peace and routine and I felt normal since the first time since I had entered Skyrim. I found myself contemplating a quiet life, raising Lynn and helping the children at Honorhall. I could see myself with a house and a garden and perhaps I would hunt to make extra money as well.=

I ignored the impossibility of it. I pretended to forget about the dragons and the possible end of the world that I would have to prevent before I could hope to settle down. I let the civil war raging through the land slip from my conscious. I refused to contemplate any destiny calling me, for good or for evil. I didn’t think about the past month or my more distant and mysterious origins. For a whole day I was Everlee, an assistant at Honorhall Orphanage, a young and very normal Breton girl.=

But of course I wasn’t. There were dragons. My past was still an unsolved mystery. And even the normal-job I had was only available because I had murdered the previous boss. No, there was no turning back. If I really wanted that life for me, I had to move forward.

When I left the orphanage though, I wasn’t thinking about that, or I wasn’t until I saw Brynjolf, arms crossed, waiting for me in the marketplace. 

“Working at Honorhall,” he stated.

“Yes,” I said, surprised at my easy response despite my inner turmoil at seeing him.  _ He knows _ .

“How about we go somewhere more…private?” Brynjolf asked looking at the vendors cleaning out and locking up their stalls for the night.

I nodded and followed him through a part of Riften I wasn’t familiar with, between warehouses, to a dock I had never noticed before.

“Anything you’d like to admit?” he asked, turning, arms crossed.

“Do I need to?” 

“I would tell you to be careful, that evidence is easily left behind but it seems you planned that all out very well,” Brynjolf said.

“Is this a moral lesson?” I asked easily. 

The more we talked the easier the cool manner of dealing with him came. If I hadn’t already recalled my eerie talents it would have been hard not to now. My own voice was foreign and frightening to me.

“The Thieves’ Guild doesn’t need bodies turning up here. It looks bad and we’d appreciate it if you would do your business elsewhere,” Brynjolf said, his tone hard.

“I didn’t plan for it you know,” I said, my debonair façade let down as easily as it was put up. “She was going to kill Lynn, I had no choice.” I saw the muscles in his face relax, and he just looked tired. “I didn’t want her involved, but I couldn’t refuse her. I should have told her no, should have put my foot down.”

We stood in silence for too long. I didn’t want to dally in the case that Lynn should get worried and risk being exposed to find me.

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” he said and I turned to leave. He grabbed my arm though and I instinctively reached for my dagger but relaxed my grip when I saw his face. It was still soft, not hard, not prepared to run me through. “Take care of her.”

“Of course,” I said quietly and he let me go. “Brynjolf, have you told anyone about…Grelod?”

“No, it’s just me,” he replied. “I doubt anyone else will suspect. I suppose Lynn and Jared know too. Other than that, you did a very good clean-up. If Mercer didn’t want to see you burned alive, you’d be good for covering up the botched jobs.”

“But I thought you weren’t the Dark Brotherhood?” I joked. 

He started to smile but his eyes then caught something behind me and I felt my blood run cold. Before I could turn, I saw him shot in the neck with some dart and there was a hand over my mouth. In the seconds I had before I lost consciousness, I heard a voice whisper in my ear:

“No, but we are.”


	11. The Assassin

I awoke. That in and of itself surprised me so that when I took in the dimly burning light casting the room in a bizarre red glow I had an odd sense of calm. My heart beating, that was good. I checked my self over. To my surprise, my weapons and even petty change I kept with me were also there. That was…too much to comprehend. I stood, finding that easy as well, I was unharmed and whatever potion they had used to knock me out had no lingering effects. All these things only made me edgy though.

If they didn't want me dead or mean to harm me (yet) then what did they want from me? A favor? A promise in exchange for my life? I started to recall what had happened. The voice (a woman's?) had said she was a member of the Dark Brotherhood, the brotherhood that dealt with death. Why then, was I clearly not dead?

"You're awake," the voice came from behind me.

By her build the woman with dark hair was obviously a Breton. Despite my dagger at her throat she looked at me as if she were merely entertained by me.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"Who's to say I want anything from you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're from the Dark Brotherhood and I'm still alive so either you want something from me or you're the worst assassin I've ever seen," I said. "Or do you always drug and kidnap people as a way of introduction?"

Her face grew stoney for a second but then she laughed, and it loosened again. I waited for her to speak but she did not.

"What happened to Brynjolf? What did you do to him?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "The thief is fine though this is rather disappointing."

I pressed the dagger lightly into her throat, not enough to draw blood but enough to get my point across. "What is that supposed to mean? Where is he?"

"I assume he’s scuttling under his dear Riften at the moment," she said dismissively. "My comment was a remark to you dear girl. I was rather enjoying your company until you grew heroic and noble asking about the thief who dared confront you about that old bitty you murdered, but I suppose you are the dragonborn so maybe that is a part of it, yes?"

"It has nothing to do with that. It's just who I am."

"No, you are an assassin, and a very good one from what I hear. Which is why I'd prefer it if you stop pressing your blade into my neck. If I wanted you dead you would be dead already."

I pulled my hand away but kept my dagger drawn.

"How do you know that?"

"You killed Grelod did you not? Even I was uncertain until that man gave you away that you were the one responsible. You took our job, we were sent there. Imagine my surprise when the woman had mysteriously disappeared. I heard of a stranger in town and followed you until I knew for certain."

"So, what? You go out of your way to congratulate me? Thanks, now may I go?"

"Such a petulant girl! Or spirited, I suppose, a bit like your mother. And yes, you may go if you choose."

"My mother?"

"Yes."

"She's in Cyrodiil, how do you know her? What have you done?"

"That  _ mage _ is not your mother any more than that dragon you killed in Whiterun."

It took all my willpower to keep my self from collapsing. That question, of my mother, had always been on the peripheral. I had suspected, somewhere inside me that the woman I knew and loved was not related to me. I was in an orphanage after all and she had never mentioned this. It was possible she had put me there temporarily of course, but what were the odds of that? Even if she had, she was still keeping secrets from me. But I had pushed this all away when I had found out. There had been too much else to deal with and this, this I had not wanted to know.

The woman gazed at me with calm, showing no emotion, letting me grasp what she had said. Finally I said:

"For someone who just found out about me you seem to know an awful lot about what I've been doing here, about me."

She grinned. "Clever."

"Why?"

"Obviously I was tracking you. Of course I still have my obligation, my duty as a Dark Brotherhood member as well, it just so happened that the Night Mother led me to you when I had lost new leads."

"Night Mother?"

"You'll find out soon enough. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

I didn't say anything, didn't respond. Clearly this woman had the information I had been desperately looking for but now, on the verge of knowing, I felt…fear. Suddenly I had no interest in finding out, there was no internal turmoil of needing to know sparring with trepidation of the answer. I outright did not want to know. I found myself not only wanting to run from the room and all the way back to Cyrodiil, but wanting to run her through, this Breton who had not even given me her name, to silence what was hopefully the only person who held this private, horrid news. Breton, she was a Breton…

I couldn't speak, the words, if I could even contemplate them, would surely be strangled in my throat.

"I am –"

_ No. _

"your –"

NO. I threw my left fist up swiftly punching her in the face and literally ran from the truth.


	12. Run

I ran out of the shack and into the forest. I continued on, unthinking, not slowing until some logical part of my brain told me this was a good way to end up dead. I stopped, or well, collapsed under a large tree then. It took all my will not to break down or lash out at the wildlife around me. 

After a few minutes I took in my surroundings. Daylight, somewhere around eleven in the morning. I wasn’t sure which morning, but at least that would give me some time before nightfall to find where I was. I couldn’t help remembering the last few days before I had entered Skyrim, starving and wandering the woods, how there had been no game.

I stood up and started walking east. An hour later I found myself recognizing the forest around me. I was still in the Rift. I’d been in this very area hunting two nights before. I sighed in relief, knowing that camp was only another two hours or so from me.

I could just see my tent through the trees when I spotted him. Red hair held back and leaning casually against a tree as if this was as natural a surrounding as his stall or The Ragged Flagon. I marveled at how Brynjolf managed to look confident and blend in anywhere he went. His arms were folded over his chest and he was staring up at the sky, not having heard me yet. Or perhaps he had.

I walked up to him and he looked down at me. 

“You’re alive,” he said. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling, his tone seemed to indicate too many things, that he was impressed, shocked, certain, relieved?

“I am.” He didn’t say anything to this, just stared at me with a frustratingly blank expression. Eventually I continued, “You’re alive.”

His face changed miraculously, a slow grin working on his face. “I am.” Finally he straightened and his face grew serious. He looked long and hard at my face before giving me a once over. “And you’re unharmed.”

“Were you worried?”

He shrugged and the left corner of his mouth rose. “I guess I was.”

“How long was I gone?”

“Just the night. I came to your camp to look after Lynn.”

“Is she ok?” I asked.

“She’s fine now. The little lass is awfully attached to you, cried herself sick with worry even when I told her you’d be fine and then wore herself out somewhere in the early hours. Been asleep since.”

I sighed. “This is no life for her but I made her a promise.” 

“It’s better than the life she had.”

“Until I die and leave her again.”

“I think it’ll take more than one assassin to take you down lass,” Bryjolf said. “Besides, I forbid it.”

I snorted. “Oh, well now that that’s taken care of. And what of her? What happens when an enemy comes after her, or a bear, or I don’t know, an avalanche? What then? This isn’t safe.”

“Well, stay away from mountain peaks,” Brynjolf said, his mouth in a broad smile now. 

Irritated I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He laughed again and to my surprise put an arm around my shoulder, so we were both facing camp. I tensed but he seemed perfectly relaxed. “Life is dangerous lass. There’s nothing you can do about that. You do the best with what you’ve got. If you hadn’t come along Lynn would likely be out here starving or injured if not dead by now. She wasn’t staying where she was. You just gave her somewhere to go.”

I took a deep breath and pulled away from him. His arm fell easily by his side. We stood there awhile facing camp for a long length of time.

Grudgingly I finally said, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Brynjolf said then moved to stand in front of me again. “So, how are you alive?”

“The Dark Brotherhood were so fond of your motto, “We’re not the Dark Brotherhood,” that they changed their name to Rainbow Party. Now they kidnap you and give you lollies,” I said. I wondered if deflecting questions with humor was something Brynjolf brought out in me.

“Ah, and here I was worried that you were bleeding out on the floor of some warehouse and you don’t even bring one back, tsk,” Brynjolf replied, much lighter and easier than my own joke.

I didn’t say anything. 

“So you’re not going to talk about it then. I’ll just have to assume they recruited you,” Brynjolf said. 

There was something odd in his tone that made me turn to him. His normal easy-smile wasn’t there, or the smirk, or even the careful blank expression he took on when questioning me. 

“And what if they have?” I asked him.

He still didn’t turn to face me. 

“Does that bother you?”

Nothing.

“You’re both breaking the law. You both have a tendency for bodies to trail in your wake,” I said, trying to bait him. Nothing. “I don’t see how what you do is any –”

Brynjolf turned and snapped, “Stop it. It’s different. The Thieves’ Guild doesn’t murder, not on purpose and not for money. We do what we have to. They…they _ slaughter _ anyone and everyone and not because they have to just for the money. No. Their skills could easily be used elsewhere. No. They kill because they  _ want  _ to. We’re nothing like them. Understand?  _ Never _ compare us to them.” 

Brynjolf was suddenly leaning over me, no, not leaning, towering. I hadn’t realized how tall he was until just then. Something in me admired how good he was at this, intimidation. Another part of me wanted to back down and raise a white flag, or dash back into the woods. That was probably the sane-er art of me, the part I don’t pay attention to when I should, like now, when a tall angry red-headed thief was so close I could feel his fury, that and his hot breath on my face. 

A small annoying part of me was going through the daggers hidden in my armor, assessing which would be the easiest to grab should Brynjolf try to run me through with more than his eyes. It was so simple, so cold and clear that part of me, the part that was assessing what to do if he pulled his right hand up with a weapon, his left, a dagger, which way to dodge, what surroundings I had to work with, where his armor was weakest…

At that I did back up. It was too much. Brynjolf didn’t move, didn’t relax. The thoughts assessing his weak points got louder, even clearer, like alarms going off. I wanted to strike before he struck me. Brynjolf took a step toward me, closing the distance again. My hands clenched and unclenched, sweaty and cold, yearning to reach for a blade and run it into his flesh…

“Thinking of killing me too, lass?”


	13. Decisions

I felt possessed. I couldn't move or turn from Brynjolf's gaze and for a brief moment I saw myself as a monster. I finally snapped my head to the side with too much effort. My pulse slowed as I reassured myself that this was no threat, no enemy. This man had come to my camp to make sure Lynn was alright, he wasn't about to attack me now.

Still not looking at his face I backed up but he took a step forward.

"Stop that," I snapped, forgetting my resolve to calm down, to relax.

I took another step away but again he followed suit. Couldn't he see I needed my distance? I decided I'd have to tell the truth to get out of this one.

"You're making me nervous. Step away," I warned (more like hissed) through my teeth.

Brynjolf laughed and I felt warmth flood through my veins, warming me up. I could feel myself calming, the old Everlee coming back. It gave me the strength to look back at his face and I was too relieved to give him the glare he deserved. He was smiling and what was more irritating, I found myself losing the fight to return one at him.

"I make you nervous lass?"

"You try having an arse of a red head Nord glaring down at you and see how it makes you feel," I replied.

His smile didn't falter and I crossed my arms over my chest, irked. This I could deal with, this rivalry with Brynjolf, was normal. What had just a second ago…I couldn't think about it. Not now.

"And my pride will never recover," Brynjolf said, false-hurt on his face.

It was silent for a good span of time and he looked to his left and right, almost seeming…uncomfortable. I laughed and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"That's the first time I've seen you look out of your element," I replied.

He didn't say anything and just nodded.

Finally I couldn't stand the silence. "What is it?"

"Did you?" Brynjolf asked, very serious. "Join them?"

I sighed. "No. I didn't, Brynjolf. I don't…I don't want to be like that."

Brynjolf nodded again, "Good."

I laughed weakly back at him. "I don't understand any of this, it's all new to me. I didn't ask for it. I don't know who I am and suddenly I'm starting to think I really don't want to find out."

"You're Everlee and from what I can tell a good person and that's all you need to remember," Brynjolf said, no hint of a joke in his voice.

"Am I? I'm starting to wonder," I said quietly.

"A bad person doesn't take in orphans and save towns from dragons, so yes, I'd have to say so. You're a good person, like it or not. The rest you'll figure it out. Not all people who follow the law are good people, and not all those of us who, shall we say, work around it, are bad," Brynjolf replied.

There had been humor in his voice and I felt the mood lightening once again. I thought about how strange it was, the way he could shift conversations and feelings inside me with such a quick pace and such ease.

"Oh I don't know you seem pretty bad to me," I said jokingly.

"Really?" he said.

He took a quick step forward and I instantly one back and into a tree. My head thudded hard against it and when I looked up to glare at him he was staring down at me seriously in a whole new way.

Brynjolf wasn't glaring this time, he wasn't angry and yet I felt the same sense of fear I'd had before. This time it didn't cause me to go through silent maneuvers in my head though it did make me want to run. I had never really thought of any one as smoldering before and been able to take that person seriously but that's what he was doing. He put his hands on the tree by my shoulders so he was leaning down.

_ Too close! Too close!  _ I thought.

_ Why? _ Another voice in my head asked.

Before I could even deem that other, stupid voice with an answer, Brynjolf decided to speak.

"Am I making you nervous again Ever?" Brynjolf asked, his voice low, deep. It sent a shiver down my spine.

_ He's got to be joking. _

I opened my mouth, ready to give him some witty reply but all that came out was, "Yes."

He stood up straight, his demeanor instantly changing again as he laughed. "Good to know."

Embarrassment and anger surfaced and to my horror, I found myself blushing. "I knew I should have run you through," I muttered murderously under my breath.

Which caused him to laugh again.

"Why don't you go thief? Lynn will be fine now," I snapped at him.

Brynjolf smiled and bowed, mocking me. "Until we meet again, dear lady."

When he turned to leave I seriously considered throwing a large rock at his head.

I let Lynn wake up on her own time, giving myself time to think. I didn't touch the end of the encounter with Brynjolf, but the conversation about Lynn just wouldn't leave me alone. I couldn't leave her but I couldn't have her stay and keep her protected, both from what I faced and from the possibility that I might not come back the next time some assassin tried to kidnap me. I tried to tell myself that putting this conversation with her off would be best, but the more I thought about it the more I doubted that too.

A few months ago, before I'd come to Skyrim, I was a different person, with a different life. Lynn, had I somehow known her, could have come live with me. We would have had a comfortable, safe life. I would be the stable young woman she needed me to be. But now, now everything about me was uncertain except for one thing, that danger was liable to follow me wherever I went. If Lynn didn't get physically hurt I would be lucky, if we both survived, I would be blessed, but there were certainly other kinds of pain. Lynn would never lead a normal, stable life and I wanted that for her.

And yet I couldn't make the decision that kept nagging me. Certainly I had enough of my own to make, but this one, this one had to be hers'.

When Lynn awoke, she hugged me for what I figured to be a good twenty minutes in uncharacteristic silence before she then rambled on in a hurry about how upset she'd been.

"You've got to promise me to never leave like that again!" she ended finally.

I looked at her and sighed. "I can't make that promise Lynn. I know I promised we'd stay together, but…I can't always control it when things like this happen. Being around me is dangerous which is why I have to ask you something –"

"I'm not leaving you," Lynn said stubbornly. Then with more desperation, "Please don't make me leave."

I smiled at her weakly. "I'm not going to  _ make _ you go anywhere."

Lynn's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"One day you'll be all grown up and I have no doubt that you'll be very capable of standing at my side through assassins and dragons and whatever else, but…until then I think it might be better that when I have to travel away, that you stay here, in Riften -"

"I won't stay at the orphanage!" Lynn said quickly.

I sighed. "I figured as much. How about Brynjolf? If he agrees to watch you while I'm away, would that be ok with you? I won't decide anything without you Lynn. We're family now."

She thought about it awhile before saying, "Why do you have to go?"

"Trust me Lynn, I don't want to. But I can't avoid it. At the very least I have to take Jared to Whiterun. And Lynn…I may be gone for long periods of time. The things I may do…I might not survive. I know this is hard on you so I'd understand if you did want to be adopted, to be a part of a family that will be there for you all the time, not gone for weeks or months. And Brynjolf, well I know  _ he  _ thinks he can handle anything, but I don't doubt sometimes the work he does can be very dangerous as well. I want what's best for you, but I want to let you  _ decide _ that for yourself for once. I won't  _ make _ you go anywhere."

Lynn nodded, not replying quickly like I'd expected. Finally she said, "You'll always be my family Ever. Nothing's going to change that. But…it was…very hard when you were gone and I didn't know what would happen. Maybe you're right. If… _ if _ I decide to be adopted you'll write to me all the time right? And visit me when you can? And when I grow up, you'll…" she started to choke up. "You'll be there, right? I really will be your right hand?"

"I swear this to you Lynn, on my life," I said.

We sat in silence.

"Ok," she said in agreement.

"I…I can't say good –" I began.

She hugged me fiercely. I was finding it very hard to part myself from the little girl I'd only known for a short time but had become so central to my life. In so many ways it felt like she was the one keeping me sane through all the madness I'd endured since coming to Riften and I couldn't deny I loved her as the younger sister I never had.

"You don't have to say goodbye. This  _ isn't _ goodbye," Lynn said with conviction.

I hugged her tighter.

The next day I walked into Riften, Lynn at my side. We went to the orphanage, and I explained the situation to Constance, about how Lynn had been starving and wandering the woods and I'd found her. My partner gushed over her, asking if she was alright, if she needed to send for a healer. When she was sure Lynn was going to be fine, she let her go have a reunion with Jared and they hugged like they'd really been apart for weeks. Jared knew her well, he knew something was wrong.

Constance and I talked, making our final plans for opening the orphanage. In three days it would be settled, until then I was to move into the orphanage for a time, to make all the last preparations. Already there had been interest through word of mouth, letters coming in asking about the children. We had all the paper work in order. I then spoke to her about Lynn, asking for a promise that she let me know about interest in her, and that I be sent word to meet with the prospective parents beforehand, to which Constance readily agreed stating the "poor girl had been through enough" which nearly made me cry again, something I'd done nearly all night.

"Also," I continued. "Jared tells me he has family in Whiterun. A grandmother he swears is fit enough to take care of him. I was thinking I could take him there, search out this grandmother for myself and see if this is the case. When I'm there I'll make everyone knows about the changes to the orphanage here."

Constance again agreed readily. She had known from the beginning of our partnership that I would have to spend large periods of time away from Riften, what with being the Dragonborn and all. Quickly, perhaps too quickly, everything was settled, and I spoke to Jared.

There was only one person left to talk to.

"Here to check out my goods lass?" Brynjolf asked looking me over.

I rolled my eyes, praying I didn't blush or strangle him or anything else that would be quite embarrassing in the middle of the Riften marketplace.

"I'm leaving," I said, straight to the point.

Brynjolf's eyes clouded over, his brows moved slightly inward, before he managed his annoying blank expression.

"And the girl?"

"Staying with Constance. She…it's too dangerous for her to be with me. I spoke to her about it, you should talk to her too. I'm taking Jared to Whiterun in three days' time and after that...well, I don't expect to be back soon," I said firmly.

"I see," he said, his voice oddly void of any emotion. "Is there something you needed then?"

"Just…just look after her, please," I whispered, my voice choking up, unable to keep my calm.

His face softened a bit before going back to stone. Brynjolf nodded.

Little did I know that no matter how far I got from Riften, I could not turn my back on the quest I had started. My past wasn't about to leave me alone.


	14. Not So Far

I decided the safest method to get Jared and me to Riften was via carriage as I did not have enough money to buy a horse. Skyrim, if it had ever been safe, was nothing short of deadly since the Dragons came back and so we needed to get there quickly and efficiently and Jared was not used to traveling as he had never even wandered far from Riften.

It didn’t take long for me to discover that Jared was not the least bit happy with me. When he thought I wasn’t looking at him he snuck a glare at me and most of his responses to my questions were answered with short grunts or exasperated sighs which took some interpreting.

“If you don’t want to go to Whiterun Jared, we don’t have to,” I said as evening approached. 

I heard the carriage-man grumble about that (“we’re half-way there”) but I was paying and he’d receive his money either way so I didn’t take the time to worry about him. However, Jared greeted me with a full on open glare at this suggestion.

“I was just thinking if you were unhappy or didn’t want to do this…” I continued. “I understand if you’d rather stay in Riften and it’s not a big deal to turn around.”

“I don’t want to turn around,” Jared said, the longest sentence he’d strung together yet.    


“Ok then,” I said and we fell into silence again.

“Why would you send Lynn back to  _ Honorhall? _ ” Jared finally blurted.

“I – ”

“You know she hates it there. You were supposed to be there. She was your family. Why would you leave her?” he shot off quickly.

“Lynn – ”   


“I thought you were different but you’re no better than the rest of them. When things get tough you just give up,” Jared finished.

“Hold up,” I said, loud enough for the carriage-driver to hear. “We need to pause a minute.”

I was now angry for two reasons, one because of what Jared said and two because I had been successfully baited by a twelve year old. Regardless, I needed to think straight and the wobbling sensation of the carriage did not help. Pacing did.

I jumped out of the carriage and then looked back to Jared, “Down, now.”

He folded his arms over his chest like a much younger child and refused to budge. “Get down so we can talk or I’ll turn this cart around to Riften whether you like it or not.”

His arms dropped to his sides stiffly but he did not move to get out. “You’re not my mother!”

“And I didn’t ask to be!” I retorted. “I’m not that much older than you, you know. You’ll see that one day. Ten years isn’t that long.”

“Whatever,” Jared said and folded his arms over his chest again. 

It was then that I had a sudden deep desire to put off having teenage children in my life for as long as possible.

“I didn’t take Lynn back because I didn’t want her in my life, or because it was tough. Tough is coming to a foreign land on your own despite the stupid nation being at civil war. Tough is finding out that for whatever reason, the Divines decided that “sure she doesn’t have enough to worry about! let’s make her dragonborn and put the fate of the world on her shoulders.” Tough is having to say goodbye to someone you’ve grown to care about deeply because you’re the biggest hazard to their life. You’ve had a tough run of life yourself Jared, so maybe when you stop being so irrational you’ll think about that for awhile,” I said and then jumped up onto the carriage again.

“Go!” I told driver and we were off again. 

Jared resumed his brooding and I pretended as if I didn’t notice. I fished out a book from my bag on pickpocketing that Lynn had given me as a going away present (and I hoped I’d never need). Normally with the emotion I had been feeling this would be the point where I’d worry about the kid, worry about me, feel guilty and torment myself about it. But this time I refused to do that, refused to think about it like that, or truly, to think about it much at all. The change was easy, too easy. Just like picking locks and murdering Grelod had been too easy. Even that thought didn’t bother me like it should and at least now I knew why the kid hated me, and even though I knew I should, I had trouble caring.

…

The next morning was the first time Jared and I spoke again since our fight. Soon after the carriage had been packed up again, taken off, and I’d reopened my book (which by now was nearly finished) he decided to talk.

“You’ve changed,” Jared said.

I didn’t respond but kept reading. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I had noticed a change. I had thought that maybe sleep or time would soften the way I felt but it hadn’t. I hardly expected Jared to notice but it was possible. I thought it more likely, however, that he was referring to his thoughts that I had been selfish in letting Lynn go.

“I don’t like it,” he finally continued.

“So I heard. Yesterday,” I said concluded, flipping the page and still not looking at him.

“I’m not talking about that,” Jared said. “You’re acting weird.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of having everything be my fault, Jared,” I said, and flipped another page.

Jared didn’t say anything for another hour at least. 

“It’s not your fault. I’m… _ sorry, _ ” Jared finally said, as if the word physically pained him.

I sighed and put the book back in my bag. I had finished it twenty minutes ago anyway and had just been brushing over the finer points, not that I had needed to. The more I had read the more I realized how easy the knowledge came to me. Despite having never pickpocketed in my life, I had come up to the answer to all but four scenarios before reading the explanation. It had disturbed me, but not nearly as much as it would have yesterday.

“It’s fine,” I said and looked out over our surroundings. 

I knew where we were, only about ten minutes carriage-ride from Whiterun. It had felt like it had been forever since I’d been there but in truth it had only been a couple of weeks. It seemed to me that my whole life had been lived in Riften now, as if everything before it had been nothing compared to it. I wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

“My parents didn’t die from the sickness,” Jared said which shocked me out of sightseeing.

I didn’t know what to say and this time no words came, easy or otherwise.

The almost-teen didn’t need me to say anything to prompt him to continue. “They survived. I like to tell people they died though.”

“Why?” I blurted, without thinking.

“Because then they wouldn’t have wanted to give me up. But they did, they did want to. After they got better I thought everything would go back to normal, but it didn’t. We didn’t have any money and they had to take whatever jobs they could get. They joined some bandits in just outside Windhelm, got addicted to Skooma, the hard stuff, from Morrowind. 

“Then…one day they left and didn’t come back. I found the note they’d left in their bedroom that night that just said good bye, they weren’t returning. I didn’t know what to do. I just stayed there. I stayed until the guards came a week later and informed me my parents had been caught trying to rob a nobleman in Whiterun, that my father had died in the attempt and my mother had been arrested. I guess she told them about me to make them feel bad for her so they’d let her go but instead they just got me and took me to Honorhall,” Jared finished, matter-of-fact.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and felt for the first time in twenty four hours the heaviness that had made everything feel so distant lift.

“I know you are,” he said. “You’re a good person, Ever. Not like them. I just…I really wished…Lynn told me about everything. She said she was actually hopeful about getting adopted, that things were ok now that Grelod was gone. She said she wasn’t mad at you at all and I didn’t understand why she wasn’t. I guess I was just being stupid.”

“Well…” I said with a smile, clearly joking, and he rolled his eyes but smiled for the first time that trip.

Then two things happened at once. The cart stopped abruptly, causing Jared to fall from his bench, and a roar that would have put Alduin off, reached my ears.

I turned, drawing my bow and looking at the sky but found nothing. I lowered my gaze and there was a troll who was way too close for comfort.


	15. Giant Tipping

Quickly I spoke the car driver and Jared, eyeing the brewery not too far from us now. "I'm going to try to draw it away. As soon as you can, run into the building, don't wait, don't stop, and don't look for me. Got it?"

"Everlee – " Jared began as I shoved one of my better knifes into Jared's hand. I saw the driver jump down and unfasten his horse so that she could run to safer ground.

"Don't argue, keep that, and don't dare think of using it unless absolutely necessary," I said as I slung my bow over my shoulder and unsheathed my two long swords and jumped from the cart.

"I can't let you –" Jared said as he jumped down, nearly falling in the process.

"Do it, don't argue," I said, as the cart driver (who I decided I'd have to re-evaluate) came from the front to pull Jared toward the fence.

"Come on kid, she'll be fine," the car driver said in his gravely voice.

I didn't stop to see if Jared followed willingly as I'd wasted enough time. Feeling way too exposed I found myself actually running toward a giant. Every instinct told me this was stupid, that you don't run toward something three times as tall as you and forty times as strong, but I had to drag its attention away from the cart, away from Jared. It worked, which I suddenly realized as the giant swung his club at me, wasn't such a good thing.

I ducked but the wind coming from the swing was enough to throw me off balance and I struggled to stay on my feet as he readied himself for another go. For a second I thought about heading toward the stream not too far from the road. There had been a few tall boulders there but as he swung down and hit the ground in the place I'd been standing not two seconds before I decided that he'd probably be able to shatter them and I'd be lucky if I survived jagged pieces of rock flying at me.

The human-sized club stuck to the ground and I used the brief time it took him to wrench up to get in a few hits, unfortunately none were critical. The best placed one was also the last. It was on his ankle, and quite deep. He roared and wrenched the club up, raising it above his head. Quickly I moved backwards as fast as I could without looking away from him. He went to take a step forward, moving his injured ankle forth, and growled again when he put the weight down, teetering a bit from the pain.

Quickly though he recovered and came at me but I dodged out of the way just in time. It was then I heard a woman shout, "Found him! He got off this way! Knew he probably didn't get far."

The giant's attention turned toward the voice and in the next instant an arrow was lodged into one of his eyes, but didn't appear to be deep enough to get into his brain, just make him angrier.

He swung wildly and I had just enough time to wonder how exactly I could thank the archer for the giant's new found rage before leaping high, the only safe move as he was thrashing both arms now in attempts to kill everything in his path. This had the unfortunate consequence of putting me atop his club which he swung up, throwing me into the air. I had a brief second where I tucked myself into a ball before I crashed down onto the ground a few feet away, hitting the Earth hard before I rolled a little and then came to a stop on my back, winded and unable to hold my limbs to my chest anymore as I gasped for air and tried to keep myself conscious.

But the giant wasn't done and wasn't distracted by the new voices I heard, two or three males by the sound of it. He had one of his targets down, and he had decided that I wasn't getting up (not that I could if I wanted to at that particular moment).

Before I could even think about moving my battered body out of the way of his giant foot (yes, after dragons and draugr and crazy thieves I was going to be killed like a bug by a well placed stomp of all things) one of the men who it was impossible to mistake as anything but a Nord stood in front of me and thrust his two-handed sword hard at the knee, causing the giant to quickly yank his foot back, but even then he hadn't avoided the blade entirely.

I felt arms behind me drag me back as the person, also a man, said, "We're here to help."

I thought that was obvious, but the deep voice sounded so sincere that even if I had enough air to make a retort I wouldn't have. Once we were a little further away from the giant who was now battling both the dark haired Nord who had stood in the way to save me from being squashed and a smaller, blonde Nord the man lifted me to my feet and put one arm around his shoulders.

I turned to look at him, he was just as big as the other Nord (and I noted they had the same dark hair as well) and so had to hunch to keep my feet on the ground and support my weight.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

"Yes," I said and then, a little less certainly, "I think."

"Good," he replied simply, letting me remove my arm from his shoulders.

He then stood up straight and I realized I had misjudged the Nord, he was even bigger than the first one. I was suddenly glad I was in the company of a giant the first time we met because there was no time for me to feel any trepidation towards him under the circumstances. I reached for my bow (my swords having been dropped the instant I took my flying trip and most of my other equipment with the cart) and was surprised to find it unharmed, as were my arrows.

"You're still going to fight?"

"Yes," I said, and aimed an arrow at the clear shot of the giant's other eye.

"Good," he said and ran toward the giant without elaborating.

I took out the giant's other eye and the creature began to panic, stumbling this way and that, holding the bit of arrow sticking out but reluctant to pull because even he must realize that to tear the thing out would mean ripping his eye out as well. There really was nothing left for him to do but swing wildly and stumble every which way blindly. I moved closer, spotting one of my swords closer to the giant but in this general direction, I picked it up, sheathing my bow and was ready to help finish off the giant.

The blonde Nord then quickly ducked under the giant's flailing arms, much more confident now that his opponent wasn't nearly as likely to clobber him and cut deep into his knee. Unfortunately for the first Nord who was standing directly behind the giant, this caused the giant to fall backwards toward him very quickly. However, I had already seen the flaw and acted without a second, dropping my sword and sprinting forward, I threw my badly battered body at the man and really hoped that my last breath would not be taken beneath the bottom side of a giant.


	16. To Whiterun

It worked. My weight and speed was able to force both the Nord and I out of the way just in time. I landed on top of him as the giant fell down, dead, only a couple of feet away.

I weakly tried to disentangle myself from the dark haired man as I catalogued the pain (some of which was new and nearly blinding but in my frazzled brain it was hard to distinguish exactly where it was coming from). I then realized that there was my second dumb move for the day (the first being run full tilt toward an angry giant) because the Nord had been wielding a sword and I hadn’t even considered that plowing him over to save his life could have meant ending mine. Luckily, he wasn’t still holding it, and even luckier, his instinct hadn’t been to shove the blade into the unexpected flying woman that had assaulted him.

The dark Nord underneath me came to pretty quick and then realized I was trying to untangle my armor from his extra sword hanging at his side and began to help without looking at me. When he was done he got to his feet despite me still being atop him, somehow lifting us both without much issue (and without asking). He set me on my feet, and I crumpled to the ground

“Are you ok?” asked the Nord who had dragged me from the fight as he approached. 

Looking up at them I realized that the resemblance between the two was definitely more than just dark hair and muscles. They had the same hair color, same eery yellowish brown eyes, same nose and jawline. The larger one had longer hair and held a look of true concern. The other looked at me as if I were some sort of alchemy experiment before going stoic. 

“Or do you prefer lying on the ground?” the Nord whose life I just saved asked and I glared at him.

“Vilkas,” the second Nord addressed. “You should help her.”

Vilkas rolled his eyes but obliged by leaning down and, without a word or attempting to cause less pain by not jostling me, picked me up in both arms and started walking and I gave him another glare before looking anywhere but at him. I couldn’t protest as there was no way I could stand and I was fairly sure if I said something he would be perfectly happy to drag me wherever he intended to take me instead (preferably by my hair). 

“That your carriage over there?” he asked as if he were bored.

“Yes.”

In no time he sat me on the edge of the carriage and I grimaced but attempted to hide the pain of my broken leg before he hopped up and without warning, picked me up again and sat me on the bench before sitting on the opposite bench and refusing to look at me.

“There,” he said as his friends (the blonde Nord, the large Nord, and the red-haired archer) came and climbed onto the carriage.

“Torvar, go get the horse,” the woman said.

The blonde grumbled something I didn’t understand which the woman seemed to have caught. “Because your idiocy nearly caused grave injury to Vilkas and was the reason Ria got hurt  _ and _ the reason the giant got away from us in the first place. So go, fetch the horse, and feel lucky and honored to be doing so for the Companions.”

“Right, I am honored to be fetching the horse,” Torvar said grumpily and jumped down, stumbling slightly in the process.

Aela rolled her eyes, looking much the same as Vilkas had moments before making me wonder how long they had known each other.

“I am Aela of the Companions, and what you did out there was very brave,” the woman said. “I have to thank you for intervening when you did. We had been fighting that giant but when one of our comrades was injured he got away. It was very lucky for you to be where you were.”

“Funny, it didn’t feel lucky at all,” I said and laughed, then tried to hide the pain as my ribs protested.

“How bad are the injuries?” the last unnamed Nord said. Then, as if reading my mind, he said, “And I’m Farkas, Vilkas’s brother.”

“Broken ribs, I think. My knee, that’s broken, maybe other hip as well. And then bruising of course, but that will be fine,” I said and shrugged.

“That’s what happens when a novice tries to battle a giant,” Vilkas said when I was done.

I turned a very cold look his way and was ready to rip into him, but Aela beat me to speaking, “ _ Vilkas. _ She saved your life at the risk of hers didn’t she?”

“Only after I saved hers,” he replied, seemingly irritated that someone as insignificant as I could save his life.

“After we put her cart in danger and then saved your life while already injured,” Aela said.

Vilkas seemed to think about replying to that, but then folded his arms over his chest and resolved to say nothing. It reminded me of Brynjolf crossing his arms over his chest and it struck me just how different the same action could come off and be done by such different men. Brynjolf had done it casually, at ease, almost tauntingly at times. Vilkas, on the other hand, looked only slightly less childish than Jared had when he’d done the same thing.

“We have healers in Whiterun, at the temple,” Farkas said. “I can make sure you get there.

I smiled at his earnestness and was about to reply in thanks when Vilkas decided now was the time to open his trap, “Aren’t you a Breton…at least  _ part _ Breton?”

“Yes,” I said, irritated and not knowing where his train of thought could be.

“Then why don’t you just heal yourself? Aren’t you supposed to be the magic type?” Vilkas continued.

I narrowed my eyes at him thinking of what I’d like him to do (mainly fall on his own sword). “Not all Bretons do magic and if you were paying attention during the battle, you would have seen it’s not exactly my specialty. I can do basic healing but not for injuries of this magnitude. Even if I could, the effort of doing so might drain me before I could finish and then I would likely be passed out and only partially healed.

Vilkas shrugged as if he could care less and said, “It was just a question.”

“Well, it looks like your traveling companions are approaching, rather quickly,” Aela said looking behind me. “After you see to your injuries you should think of making your way to Jorrvaskr, we could use people like you.”

Then she rose at the same time it clicked that she was one of  _ the _ Companions, the exact ones Jared was looking for. However, before I could say something else to her, Jared was scrambling up into the carriage as the driver took his seat and Aela and Vilkas exited, meeting up with Torvar. I was about to ask Farkas what he was doing but then recalled that he was going to make sure I found my way to a healer and I smiled at him, finding myself warmed by his actions. Then Jared stood in front of me and hesitated before giving me a quick hug (causing me to gasp from the pain) and then taking a seat beside me as the carriage took off.

“So you’re ok,” Jared said. “Arnbjorn wouldn’t let me help. Old man’s stronger than he looks.”

At this, the carriage driver Arnbjorn grunted and muttered something under his breath and I got the jist that he wasn’t fond of being called an  _ old man. _

“You could have died, Jared. Giants aren’t the easy creatures to fight with, ask my ribs,” I said.

“Your ribs?” he asked confused.

“Nevermind,” I said, deciding not to worry him. Then I looked at Farkas. “Farkas, this is Jared. Jared, Farkas. Farkas is a Companion.”

Jared’s eyes widened and then he stared at Farkas, who didn’t seem to take much notice of the boy’s strange expression.

Finally Jared said, “Like  _ the _ Companions?”

“Yes, unless there are others, but I doubt that,” Farkas said and I wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“So, you must know my grandmother right?” Jared asked.

Farkas looked genuinely confused and said, “I don’t think any of the woman are old enough to be your grandmother though Aela gets awfully touchy when you ask about her age.”

“Her name is Dalia,” Jared said.

“Oh,” Farkas said, and realization dawned on his face.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” Jared asked. “That’s probably why she didn’t come for me sooner. I guess this entire trip was for nothing.”

Everything got silent, and I knew Jared was trying his hardest not to cry, especially with the bulky Companion sitting with us. He looked down at his lap and I wanted to comfort him but I knew he wouldn’t appreciate that either at this moment.

“I never knew my grandmother. Aela did though,” Farkas said, and I thought this was a really strange piece of information.

“Aela knew your grandmother?” I asked. “And you didn’t?”

Now it was Farkas’s turn to look confused and then he worked through it. “No Aela knew  _ her _ grandmother, Dalia.”

At this Jared looked up abruptly. “Dalia? Aela is a Companion and her grandmother was Dalia. The same Dalia?”

Farkas smiled, “Yes.”

“That would make her my…um…” Jared said.

“Cousin,” I said, deducing that Aela probably wasn’t in the right age range to be an unknown sibling.

“So I have a cousin? Then there is a point to this trip. Good, to Whiterun then,” Jared said, as if there had ever been plans to turn back made verbally.

“To Whiterun,” I agreed as the carriage stopped outside the stables.


	17. Not So Companionable

I learned one thing very quickly. When Farkas offers you his help, he’s very polite, but he doesn’t take no for an answer.

“Really, you don’t need to carry me the whole way – we could make a crutch or find a wheelbarrow or –” I continued helplessly as he continued to carry me up toward the gate.

“It’s no problem,” he said. 

Somehow he made it look like it too, carrying me effortlessly in his arms as Jared had to almost run to keep up with him alongside.

“I just, I can’t really let you do this. I mean, I appreciate it but really this is so –”

“You can’t walk and I can carry you without a problem. So why are you arguing so much?” Farkas asked good-naturedly and flashed me a smile.

I blushed not wanting to have to explain exactly how embarrassing it was going to be for me to be carried around the city by the bulky Nord. I was Dragonborn, an almost-member of the Thieves Guild, I had taken out dragons, bandits, ogres, and now a giant, and I was being toted about as if I were a small child. Surely he had to see this from my point of view.

“I…it’s just…” I started but couldn’t bring myself to admit my fear of how this would look to everyone.

Farkas raised an eyebrow I came the conclusion that perhaps he really didn’t see why it should bother me, why anyone’s opinions besides my own would make a difference. At any rate, I decided to let it go. I might look silly this way, but refusing his aid or making extra effort for the trip to the chapel would look weak to him, and I decided that was the worse fate.

“Ok, thanks…again,” I said.

“Any time,” Farkas agreed.

“I hope this doesn’t  _ have _ to happen again,” I said and laughed.

“I doubt it but in this line of business, you never know,” Farkas said and shrugged, causing my body to dip and me to clutch hard to his chest armor (as if he would actually drop me). I let go and blushed again as he gave me an innocent smile and said, “Don’t worry, I got you.”

“I’m not in this line of business,” I said once I was sure I wasn’t crashing to the ground any time today.

“You aren’t?” Farkas asked, sounding surprised. “You fight like it, talk like it, act like it. If you’re looking for work you know, you might ask Kodlak about joining us when you visit Jorrvaskr with Jared.”

“I’m not really looking right now, but thank you,” I replied.

He shrugged again and I fought my instinct to cling to him again. “Your choice. It’s too bad though. Probably would have been nice having you as a sister. Um, shield-sister I mean.”

Just then we met with the city guards, one of whom I recognized as surviving the fight with the first dragon I had battled. He raised an eyebrow at my position and I really wished I wore a hood to cover my face. Luckily he didn’t say anything as he let us pass.

“Can I join the Companions?” Jared asked as we made our way to the chapel and I was glad to have something else to focus my attention on then the villagers around us.

“No. But maybe you could Apprentice,” Farkas answered. “Kodlak doesn’t usually take in anyone young  _ directly _ into the Companions, but is possible to live and train with us, run some basic errands until you are old enough to prove your worth. It doesn’t happen very often though.”

“Huh,” Jared replied, sounding interested.

With Farkas’s long legs and brisk pace it wasn’t long before we were at the Temple. I felt guilty about having the healer come immediately to me with all the sick currently suffering in there but my broken bones had to be fixed before they began to set and I was a fairly non-complicated case (for them) to work with. Farkas refused to leave until I had been healed which I told him wasn’t necessary but again was warmed by the gesture.

“I will see you soon,” Farkas said and bowed his head before taking off.

I went to the Inn and booked a room for the week before heading to Jorvaskr with Jared. Upon entering Aela waved me over from where she was sitting at the table around the fire.

“Hello again, Everlee!” Aela said. “Have you come to join us?”

I smiled. “Not tonight. I was wondering if I could have a word with you and your leader…did you say his name was Kodlak?” proud of myself for recalling that bit of information.

“Yes,” Aela said. “He is downstairs, Farkas can take you to him. I will meet you down there when I’m finished.

“Farkas?” I asked. I hadn’t seen him on entering.

“Yes?” the deep voice came from right behind me.

I turned quickly and almost had to look straight up. Less than two feet behind me the Nord stood, smiling broadly at me. I was unnerved by how easily the man had snuck up on me (somehow “stealth” and Farkas hadn’t seemed to go together). It looked like he was completely unaware of this though, so I doubted that his intention had been to surprise me. Currently he wasn’t in his armor as the day was coming to an end so that probably helped him. Remaining quiet in heavy armor wasn’t very easy.

“Oh, I didn’t see you,” I explained.

“Well now you do,” he said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Kodlak. I think Vilkas is speaking with him right now.”

_ Great _ , I thought.

We made our ways into the below-ground floor of Jorvaskr as Jared and Farkas chatted amicably. Personally I was preparing myself to face Farkas’s brother (his twin by what Jared’s conversation had revealed). Both men were warriors, both looked similar in their own ways, but from what I could see, they couldn’t be more dissimilar. Farkas was good-natured, loyal, caring, and friendly. Vilkas was a prat who would rather die than admit an open spot. He was hostile and harsh and I had never taken such a quick dislike of anyone (with the exception of Mercer Frey I added as an after thought). 

When we neared the end of the hall Vilkas was just shutting the door to the room at the end. He turned and saw us, his eyes focusing on me immediately before narrowing. 

“What do you want?” Vilkas asked.

“Are you the doorman?” I asked.

“I’m asking what you want. This is private Companion quarters and you should not be down here,” he replied.

“Brother, she has stuff to talk about with Kodlak,” Farkas input.

“You shouldn’t have brought her down here. If she needed to speak with Kodlak she could have waited until he found the time to go to the Mead hall,” Vilkas responded.

“Do you treat every one this way, or just people who save your life?” I asked.

Vilkas decided to respond by folding his arms over his chest and glaring. 

Just then the doors opened and an older Nord smiled at us. “Vilkas, this must be the young woman you and Aela have spoke of.”

Vilkas’s arms dropped to his side as if in defeat and I was glad that at least Aela seemed to like me so whatever had been said wasn’t one-sided from him. Kodlak welcomed us into his chambers and Farkas took his leave though Vilkas stayed, taking a seat near his leader. He continued to give me various hostile expressions but I ignored him as I explained why I had come.

“So can I join you? Can you help us?” Jared asked when I finished, no longer able to contain himself.

Kodlak frowned and I prepared myself mentally for the let down.

“No. You are too young. The Companions haven’t taken on Apprentices in decades. I might overlook this as there has been no restrictions against it put in place, but you are twelve, and you must be thirteen for us to accept you as Apprentice,” Kodlak said. “There is strict rule about that.”

“But…but I’m twelve. I’ll be thirteen in seven months…or eight…couldn’t you –” Jared began, begging.

“I’m sorry,” Kodlak said and the truth in his voice as he said it softened him to me.

“In eight months?” I asked. “He could in eight months?”

Kodlak took a moment before responding. “There’s two more relevant conditions. You have to be supported by no less than four members of the Companions who know you well. I’m afraid you do not know any of them, though I suppose that could be rectified if they took the time. If you are anything like your grandmother, Jared, I have no doubt you are brave of heart but you are inexperienced with a blade, a bow, or any sort of weapon. An apprentice must have at least a basic knowledge of one or more weapon-types and pass the test to see if you can wield it sufficiently for the position.”

Jared’s shoulders slumped and I could feel something welling up inside me that I couldn’t quite name until, “I could train him,” burst from my mouth.

“You?” Vilkas asked and snorted. “The boy wouldn’t survive a single skeever attack.”

Kodlak looked at Vilkas gravely but said nothing and for the first time I saw something of…repentance for what he’d said, even if he wasn’t going to verbally apologize. His face relaxed for the first time, with no glare ready for me if I so much glanced in his direction.

“He would still need the support of four current Companions,” Kodlak said, but then he paused, thoughtful here. “I could allow him to live here for a time, if a current member were willing to look after him of their own accord. The likelihood of him getting acquainted with enough people would then be raised.”

“Do you think Aela would –” Jared began but Kodlak stopped him.

“Aela is often away for weeks on end, child,” he said. “She would not be able to watch after you.”

There was a pause, a moment of tension. From the look of expectation on Kodlak’s face we knew the conversation wasn’t over. Vilkas and I worked our way through what he meant us to figure out at the same time.

“No,” Vilkas said at the same time as I said:

“May I join the Companions?”

“We’ll see,” Kodlak said.


	18. Flirting with Defeat

“You want me to test her?” Vilkas confirmed, a smile forming on his face after Kodlak explained that before I could be admitted I must show my skill for all the Companions to see.

“Yes,” Kodlak said. “Tomorrow afternoon we shall see if you will join us. Until then, Everlee.”

I nodded to Kodlak. Vilkas smirked at me on my way out the door as Jared followed closely at my side. I tilted my head down and cocked it to the side returning his smile with one of anticipation. A look of confusion flashed across his face, not expecting that reaction from me before I passed him, shutting the chamber doors behind us.

“So, are you going to join?” Farkas asked, appearing from a hallway.

“I will be tested,” I replied.

“Who?” he asked, grinning, as if he always knew that (not matter what my original intent) I was going to join the Companions soon after I entered Jorvaskr.

“Vilkas,” I replied.

Farkas looked a little surprised by this but recovered quickly. “You must have made an impression. Kodlak rarely tests people against Circle members.”

“Circle?” I questioned.

“Members higher up in the circle,” Farkas said.

“Are you in the Circle?” Jared asked.

“Yep,” he replied, smiling at the boy.

“Hmm…maybe if I get to join someday I could be in the Circle,” Jared said.

“Perhaps,” Farkas grinned. “But you’d have to work very hard.”

“I will, Ever is going to train me,” he replied.

“Are you?” Farkas asked me then looked at Jared. “Maybe if I find the time I could help, teach you with some of the two handed weapons and heavy armor when you get strong enough.”

“Really?” Jared asked, surprised. Then he turned to me, “Could he?”

“It’s up to you Jared,” I said and then smiled at Farkas. “If you get the time.”

“We’ll see,” he said returning the smile. “After all you’ll be with us nearly all the time for the next year if you do.”

I took in a deep breath. Kodlak had mentioned that before making sure of my commitment to join. I had come to Skyrim searching for clues to my birthfather after I had received a mysterious note and the only thing I had learned was that my mother might not be my mother and could actually be a –

But no. I wasn’t going to think about that.

Regardless of not being sure how far I wanted to delve into my personal history, it still worried me having to make a commitment that long. Between the civil war and the dragons, Skyrim wasn’t the safest place to be. I had considered the idea of traveling back into Morrowind for some months to send and receive a letter from my mother in Cyrodiil about what I had discovered but I doubted getting back out and back in would be as simple as it had been the first time (if one could count nearly being executed as simple). And even though it had only been two days, I had the longing to go back to Riften. It had felt like…home. For the first time I had felt like I belonged somewhere even with all the madness that had occurred in my short stay. I wanted to go back there. I did not want to settle in to Whiterun.

Still, I had given my word that if I passed the test I would join them and the thought of telling Kodlak and Vilkas that I ddin’t want to go through with it wasn’t an appealing one. I could just see Vilkas’s smarmy smile as he took it as a sign that I was afraid to face him. I wasn’t. 

And there was still Jared to think of. I didn’t want to get his hopes so high only to have to bring him back to Honorhall now. A large portion of me doubted he’d even come back. He’d already said if he were Lynn and had gotten away he would have kept running, that he’d only gone back because I had promised to help him. Sometimes I wished that I could stop involving myself in all of the messes I got into. 

The next day I still wasn’t sure how I felt about joining the Companions. Sure, Farkas seemed nice enough as well as Aela, and I had to admit I missed the thrill of battle that didn’t involve stealth or secrecy. I had grown up with bows and swords, learning how to wield them quickly and efficiently. Just because I found I had a new couple of innate talents didn’t change who I was. Those new talents were…something that seemed natural, I hadn’t chosen to work on them and hadn’t even known I’d had a knack until I’d been forced to use them. The Companions, the way they fought and what they fought for, that was something I had chosen for myself. The difference seemed important.

“So you showed up did you? And in heavy armor I see. Can you handle that Breton?” Vilkas said as I approached him in the appointed area out back.

I smiled, feeling the excitement of the duel (and the idea of getting to aim a few good swings at the mouthy Nord). “Wouldn’t miss it.”

I looked around seeing several new faces in addition to Aela, Farkas, and Kodlak standing far back by the tables on a raised platform before the Mead Hall. An older man came forth and said, “Today you will be tested and the Circle will watch and decide whether you are worthy to become a potential member of the Companions. I am Skjor. Fight well, Everlee.”

I nodded my head low to him and when I looked back I saw him grinning at Vilkas before he turned and took his place once again. I suddenly wondered just how serious my test was supposed to be, whether anyone expected me to succeed. I looked at those I knew. Aela looked a little confused though why I couldn’t say. Kodlak didn’t show emotion I could detect but a faint interest in watching the ensuing fight but nothing else. Farkas smiled at me encouragingly and I was glad to know at least one person seemed to think I had shot.

I turned back around to face Vilkas, holding my helmet in my hands. 

“Today I will test your skill as a warrior. If you pass the test you will be allowed to undergo a trial period as the Circle observes you and all that you do for the Companions to see if you have the heart it takes to be one of us. If, at the end of this trial, you are seen honorable and worthy, then the Circle will welcome you as a full member, a Shield-Sister. Are you ready?” he asked, speaking the obviously memorized phrases.

“Yes,” I said certainly despite my own doubts.

“Let me remind you then, before we begin. This a test of melee skill. When I have seen enough of your skill to attest whether you have the required ability I will end the fight. There will be  _ no magic _ involved. We are testing your arm, your endurance, and your skill with a blade,” Vilkas continued. “Do you understand and accept these conditions?”

“Yes,” I repeated.  _ As if my weak magic would do me much good. _

“Then, let’s begin,” Vilkas said.

We put on our helmets and drew our swords. The two handed sword was impressive and almost as long as I was. Pulling out my two short swords I should have felt inadequate in comparison but all I felt was a sense of rightness. Vilkas watched me for a moment as we eyed each other, trying to guess at weaknesses. 

In those few moments I considered the option of letting Vilkas win in the end, purposefully downplaying my abilities without being obvious about it. It was the lesser embarrassing act (than not having faced him at all) and I wouldn’t be forced to commit to this place where I’d have to deal with him for large quantities of time. I thought of throwing it now so that I could be free to go off on my own, be independent again. Before I had made a decision one way or another, the battle began.

Vilkas was the first to act, swinging his sword hard from left to right, slashing close to my shoulders. It was an obvious first move, to test me. Quickly I jumped back out of its reach and then went to the left where the swing had begun to try to land a blow to his armor there. He was surprisingly quick with the rebound, aiming low to knock me off my legs (or if I was slow enough, cut my legs off). I jumped and dodged further left as he slashed up again. Standing much too far left for him to hit me without readjusting his position, I aimed both my swords at that side of his chest and then thrust my fists up to his chin, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

I quickly went in for another strike but had to duck as his sword came even faster than before. I was able to get in a few hits, nothing too heavy as I bobbed and weaved past his sword which seemed to get faster and faster as we battled. 

At some point we were moving so quick all of it was instinct. Vilkas got in some hits that likely would have done serious damage if I hadn’t been able to stop their momentum before they crashed into me. One good swing from his sword at the pace and with that fury would have killed me but instead of scaring me (or knocking me dead), this excited me. It had been a long time since I’d battled anyone close to his skill level and it felt good to have an opponent that really gave me the opportunity to use all of my abilities.

We danced and weaved and he did not call it, did not say we should stop. All thoughts of purposefully losing the battle were thrown out the window. I didn’t want to end it that way. In fact, I found myself unwilling to want an end at all. I didn’t want him to deem me worthy, to concede the right for me to get a trial with the Companions. I wanted to fight until one or both of us couldn’t lift our swords anymore. 

I found myself smiling as I breathed heavily, our battle-dance taking up the entire backyard of Jorvaskr. On stones and on tables and on steps we fought, only aware of the immediate surroundings that influenced the fight. I had some dim awareness of people moving from the melee and the noise of many voices but everything but the warrior in front of me, my own swords, and the next moves were irrelevant. Disregarded. 

I found myself laughing, the sound light and ringing. The thrill of it all was exhilarating and I became aware of a deep resonating sound that felt like it echoed in my own chest. I realized that it came from the Nord as we exchanged blows. 

Even with the aid of the Nine Divines I doubted our swords could move faster, our moves be more timed. Inches separated us from death or mutilation at the hands of the other. Seconds made the difference between drawing breath and blood. 

At some point a couple of voices were so loud they did rise above the melee.

“Shouldn’t we step in to stop them, Kodlak?”

A laugh, not the deep, resonating one but heartier. “Do you wish to try to place yourself between them Skjor?”

And truly there was no room between us two dancers that was not quickly closed by our blades.

It was I that started the end. I dared make the dangerous move of attempting to hook my foot around his ankle. Somehow it had worked but before he fell onto his back, he reached out with his right hand, the entire bulky sword’s weight now in one hand, and grabbed my left forearm, causing me to tumble down as well. Though he gripped my arm tight, I made the most of the fall, tucking my legs in and slamming my knees into his thighs. I raised my right arm, angling the sword at his neck, tip pressed lightly to his skin but I felt his steel at the back of my own neck at the very same time and knew that neither had won.

I was breathing heavy, we both were. After a few endless moments of silence, chests heaving from exertion, I found myself laughing again, breathlessly, feeling less bogged down than I had since I’d come to Skyrim. Vilkas laughed too, even quieter, his chest vibrating my knees. He let go of my arm as I lowered my sword. He then lowered his to the ground and we took off our helmets as our laughter faded into more exhausted breaths.

“Well, it seems we will soon have a new Shield-Sister,” Kodlak said, drawing my attention from Vilkas’s dark yellow-brown eyes. He was the first to approach us followed closely by Skjor.

It was then that I took in that we were near a forge, one I did not recognize but knew anyway by reputation. Skyforge. And apparently our frantic battling had received more attention than just that of the Companions. Some villagers (guard, commoner, and sell-sword alike) were being ushered out of the area by an annoyed white-bearded man and Aela. 

I managed to get up and off of Vilkas and he sat up. Once I had sheathed my swords, I offered him a hand which he raised an eyebrow to but took anyway. When he was on his feet he bent down and picked up his enormous sword, casually putting it back into the strap holding it behind him.

“I haven’t seen a dual like that in a long time,” Skjor said, eyeing me in a way that I didn’t like but couldn’t say why.

I felt Vilkas come closer to me and stick a hand on my shoulder, “I think, perhaps, her skill is worthy of us.”

“Perhaps?” I said, laughing and turning my head up to look at him.

He removed his hand and moved to my side, smiling. “Perhaps.”

“No one’s given you a fight like that in years Vilkas. Perhaps is weak of you,” Aela said, coming up behind the two older Circle members as the last of the audience left. 

Then I saw Farkas climbing the stairs with the white-bearded man I assumed must be the infamous Eourlund Grey-Mane. Farkas waved at me he approached but Eourlund didn’t so much as spare a second glance as he went about reviving the fires of his forge.

“I think perhaps is the biggest compliment Vilkas will likely give me, Aela. I take no offense,” I said lightly.

“Still,” Aela said, narrowing her eyes at Vilkas.

“I have never seen you fight like that brother and I have seen you fight many times,” Farkas said then added, “or smile quite so much in battle. It was…”

“Unnerving,” someone said quietly, a dark-skinned Nord woman had apparently already been on the other side of the forge and went to talk to the blacksmith without another word

“You are very skilled. Having you among us will be most beneficial I believe,” Skjor said, still with the same look.

“Welcome,” Kodlak said with such sincerity I truly felt at peace there.

Standing among those great swordsman and archers, I couldn’t recall why I would have ever shied away from them. I was a warrior and belonged here, in my element, my chosen element, with them. Suddenly, becoming a Shield-Sister felt like the only family quest I had ever wanted to be on.


	19. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Three months later and not much had happened other than Vilkas going back to his confrontational attitude. Despite whatever malfunction was up with that twin, the other, Farkas, was as friendly as ever. Friendlier even, now that he knew I was bound to stick around for awhile.

I shifted the bow on my back and made sure my grip on the bag beside it would last me through Jorrvaskr's main doors. I hadn't been able to use my swords in some time because, despite my attempts to avoid taking Vilkas's assignments, the jerk always seemed to know exactly when I would return and what to say to force my hand into accepting. And it just so happened that his assignments always involved giants. Farkas said it was because he had faith in me. I was under the belief it was because he liked picturing me getting thrown about if I wasn't careful and wouldn't mind in the least if his newest shield-sister-to-be didn't come back.

Well, this time I had a present for him.

I briefly took my hand off the bag to force open the door. Naturally, as if he had some psychic ability to predict my arrival time, he was standing no more than six feet in front of me.

"You're back, finally," Vilkas said in his best impatient tone. "I see you're not dead yet either. If it weren't for the reports –"

"You would doubt I had taken care of the problem at all," I ended his traditional phrase back to him. "Well, you see, I know how you've been wanting to see that I did the job myself so this time I brought you back a token of my affection."

I heaved the bag over my shoulder and allowed its contents to roll onto the floor and land at Vilkas's feet. He looked down at the giant's head which now looked up at him, sightless, a small puddle of blood trailing up to it. I saw his fists tighten and smirked, determined to wait out his temper tantrum.

"You – " he said but was unable to get any more words out through his anger over the gory mess.

"A speechless Vilkas is a happy Vilkas, or so they say," I said, smiling sweetly at him as his head slowly turned up to meet my gaze.

"You will clean this up," Vilkas said.

"Your gift," I said and didn't stick around long enough to suffer the consequences of refusing to heed my 'superior's' orders. I threw the bag over the head and walked past Vilkas with enough berth so that he couldn't reach out with one bulky arm and stop me.

Those at the dining tables were drinking as it were and boasting about whose adventures had been grander. Skjor was eyeballing me again as I walked by and though I was used to it at this point, it somehow did not ease the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I was barely out the back doors when Farkas strolled up with Ria (who had quickly warmed up to me) in tow. It was like the two had some supernatural gift to sense when I came back to Jorrvaskr and would then plant themselves in my path. At least his grinning face wasn't an unwelcome sight.

"You're back," he said. "Good, Skjor's going to meet with us after dinner and he was getting impatient."

"Is anyone ever not impatient around here?" I asked.

"Kodlak," Farkas said. "But he's been very busy lately. Too bad. It would be nice for you to hear more of his stories."

"They are amazing," Ria said looking up at Farkas.

Farkas gave her a brief smile and asked me, "Care to hunt a bit before dinner? It is about time we hunted together."

"I would but still a bit tired from troll wrangling and bringing back the trophy for your brother," I replied. He gave me a curious look but I waved him off. "Never mind."

"My brother thinks highly of you, as do I," Farkas said.

I snorted. "Alright then, I'll remember that when I avoid being mangled by inches and then am sent out to do it all over again without so much as a poultice the next day."

"You'll see," Farkas said.

Dinner came and went quicker than I wished it to. I did end up cleaning up the troll's blood off the floor (the head already having been removed) but not because of any order Vilkas had given, rather out of respect to Tilma. I also carefully avoided Vilkas as far as I could.

I watched the sun set behind the wall as Farkas and I waited for Skjor to come back from the Markets. When he finally came he stopped closer than I'd have liked, he had a tendency to ignore personal space. I took a couple small steps back.

"You wanted us?" Farkas asked, un-phased.

Skjor eyed me and I forced my gaze not to waver. Finally he turned to Farkas, "Yes. It is time she proved herself. We are sending you two after a fragment of Wuuthrad. If she proves to be brave and useful, and comes back alive, she will be a full Shield Sister." He looked at me. "Do you understand and accept this quest?"

"I do," I said, nodding.

"And do you, Farkas, agree to be her Shield Brother on this quest, in charge of judging whether she behaves bravely and with honor?"

"Yes, Skjor," Farkas said, a wide grin on his face.

"Then you are dismissed for your quest. Leave at daybreak tomorrow morning, no later," Skjor warned.

Farkas nodded and Skjor headed back to Jorrvaskr. The burly Nord looked down at me, smiling like an overgrown puppy. "You ready?"

Just when I thought the quest was too easy, the vampires showed up. Well, they weren't all vampires, but still, it was odd to find them, mixed with humans and all with swords that had Silver Hand etched deep into their hilts.

Farkas didn't seemed surprised in the least which made me suspect he'd encountered this Silver Hand before. We encountered one or two more before we found ourselves in the midst of an ambush. No less than a dozen Silver Hand against one giant Nord and a small Breton. Luckily, my swords were already drawn, as Farkas moved way too quickly for me to feel comfortable shooting in close quarters.

"Well, well, well," the guy drawled in a very cliche manner. He was the biggest, a Nord and nearly as tall as Farkas though not as well built. "Look what we have here, boys, one of the bastards in the flesh."

Farkas growled under his breath. "Leave, now," he said, sounding feral, not at all like the grinning man I'd come to know.

The Nord laughed and I felt a shiver go up and down my spine. I looked around, at least none of them appeared to be archers. That improved our chances of survival, at least for a few seconds. I kept turned around, to the men behind us. At least one hungry vampire, a couple of others could pass for various other stages of the disease. It was hard to tell. I put my back to Farkas and prayed to the Divines that whatever wild course they had in place for me wasn't about to all come to an end. Part of me was also wishing I'd learned more Shouts, specifically ones that would do more good in battle than the ones I had.

"Tell me pup, should I kill you first, or should I let you watch your companion die slowly, skewered on the edge of my blade?" the Nord asked. "Oh, we could have so much fun with her. What do you say? Hand her over and your life will be just a little longer. Who knows, maybe we'll even let you live without your pretty little recruit. Let you tell everyone what happens when you freaks cross the Silver Hand?"

"Never!"

"We'll see," he drawled.

Farkas was shaking in anger, but he didn't step away from me as they closed in on us. We fought as close to each other as we could, somehow managing not to bump into each other much. I kicked up dirt into a couple on the left's eyes, blinding them temporarily. It was a dirty tactic, but so was fighting twelve on two.

I let the rage over take me but it wasn't enough. I could feel the desire to slink back, to find a wall, to use stealth, but it was impossible, not here with Farkas and so many enemies. My strength began to wane. I took down two with one slice to their necks and the others backed up looking to flank me better.

I found it hard, trying to keep as many back as I could with dirt, spit, groin kicks, anything to better the odds. Slowly though, they wore us down. How many were left still? Eight? Nine? They began to successfully separate the two of us and there was nothing we could do to prevent it. Our backs were vulnerable and any minute I expected a dagger through my rib cage.

One of the Imperials, a vampire, forced the blade from my favored right hand as someone grabbed my left arm and threw me to the ground, stomping hard on my fingers so that I was forced to release that one too. I cried out involuntarily as someone grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the floor, throwing me into a small cell and slamming the door.

The Nord, fangs extended, leered down at me. "I'll be right back, as soon as I sedate your pet."

I stood up and shook the bars which was no use. Though they looked ancient, they stood firm. I turned to look for something to pick the lock and was surprised to see I wasn't alone in the cell, a Breton man, pale as the moon smirked at me, pointing a sword at my throat.

"Thinking of leaving me, precious?" he asked.

He sheathed his sword and came at me, I dodged, barely, but fell to the ground. Quickly I kicked back and got up, but not quick enough, he grabbed my wrist and drew me into his body. He opened his mouth wide revealing a small set of fangs. I struggled to take a step back but he had his hands now firmly on my lower back and there was no retreating. He was much stronger than he looked.

"How does eternal life sound to you, jewel? I could give you forever, so much more than the children of the moon could do for you," he said, his gravely voice attempting to pur.

I pushed against him with my hands, but he simply readjusted, leaving one hand on my lower back but pressing me against him tighter with his other between my shoulder blades. My head was pressed against his chest, my left cheek felt his cold skin even through his light armor. He leaned down and bit my neck and I cried out involuntarily, the amount of pain surprising me.

There was a roaring in my ears, and a deep pulsing beat. The sound of my heart, bumping blood, blood that was seeping through this nameless vampire's teeth right now. I realized whatever the leader of this pack of Silver Hand had wanted to do with me was nothing I would ever have to fear. I was going to die.

"Do you accept my offer, child?" the vampire purred, temporarily relieving himself of my blood. "Do you wish to become one of us?"

"Never," I said.

"Very well," he said.

He bent down for my neck again. I felt weak but some part of my brain, a fuzzy distant but working part of it realized that he wasn't holding me as tightly. I thought of Bryjolf, of the swift movements of thieves, the silence of an assassin, the way everything stilled in that last silent moment before a kill or the lock clicked open. As stealthily as I could I reached into the folds of the vampire's robes and found a dagger. With a little effort, I made sure to aim perfectly behind him, shoving it deep into his heart from behind.

He shrieked and released me. I fell to my knees as he crumbled into dust around me. The pulsing sensation faded but the roaring didn't and I realized it wasn't in my head. I looked up to see a giant wolf standing on two legs rip into the Silver Hand leader, most of his men shredded around him. When it pulled back from his body it was breathing heavily, slowly it turned its head toward me, its...his large yellow eyes boring into mine. I knew those eyes.

"Farkas?" I asked weakly.

It stalked away from me as I fell face first into the floor and darkness enveloped me.

I woke lying on my back, head propped up on Farka's lap. He looked at me with big, concerned yellow eyes and I thought of the wolf he'd been. There was no doubt in my mind that had been him, and yet I felt no fear. Just...a little drowsy.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

" 'M fine," I said slowly.

I reached up, feeling as though my arm weighed thirty pounds, and touched the tender spot on my neck. I could tell it had been cleaned but it was still sore to the touch as I pressed it, hissing as the pain came. Vampire. A vampire had...bit me. Somehow in all my adventures, I had never seen that one coming. Then it hit me like a dragon barreling full speed.

A vampire bit me.

I struggled to sit up but he pressed me back down. "Farkas...I'm not...not a..."

"Not yet," he assured me.

Farkas reached down, into his pack beside him, and pulled out a poultice. "Knew this might come in handy. It will cure the disease now, if you want it to."

"Why wouldn't I want it to?" I asked, reaching for it.

"Some people like the vampires, want to join. But you can't be like us and be like them," he said simply.

"A werewolf?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Yes," he said, sounding almost nervous. "Does that bother you?"

"Should it?" I asked.

He laughed. "Probably."

"Huh," I said, taking the poultice stopper off and drinking the contents.

I struggled to sit up. "So...are all the Companions..."

"No, just the Circle."

"Oh."

There was a moment of silence. Farkas wasn't looking directly at me. "We should probably get you back to Jorrvaskr. You're injured and have suffered pretty bad blood loss..."

"We still haven't gotten the fragment," I said.

Farkas shrugged. "They will have to get you another quest."

I slowly forced myself to stand, a rush of dizziness hitting as I stood straight. I took a deep breath and it got a little better.

"No, we're finishing this one," I stated.

"Ever -"

"You're my Shield Brother, right?"

"Yes."

"Than you've got my back," I said.

"Yes, but it isn't safe. There's still the rest of the crypt, possibly Silver Hand. Your life is worth more than this," Farkas said.

I ignored him and looked for my swords, and slowly reached down and sheathed them. I pulled out my bow and fixed my gaze on him.

"You're a Companion so you know what that means. It means possibly giving your life, fighting with honor and bravery. I'm not going to quit now, not while I can still stand and shoot an arrow," I said. When he didn't look convinced I continued, "I'll try to stay out of the melee if it makes you feel better, but we're doing this."

He gave me a long, steady gaze with his wolfish eyes before he nodded.

"And Farkas?"

"Huh?"

"It doesn't bother me, to answer your question," I said. He looked at me, confused. "About you being a werewolf."

Slowly his face turned from surprised to happy. He gave me his big grin. "Good. Now, lead on Shield Sister."


	20. Wounds

The rest of the quest was fairly simple. Draugr, a lone Silver Hand, human. I took some shots but got no kills until we reached the fragment and we had to face down the remaining twenty or so dead protecting the area. Farkas was impressed that I could even stand with the blood loss sustained, let alone aim and kill. To be honest, so was I.

When we finally got back to Jorvaskr it was after noon and I felt like I might just pass out before we got to the entrance. I had begun to rely heavily on Farkas for support. Skjor, Vilkas, and Aela were waiting just outside, watching our approach. I stopped leaning on Farkas and presented him with the shard, wrapped in old linen.

He looked at it and passed it to Aela standing beside him, who took it inside. Skjor's eyes scanned me, lingering on my neck.

"Come here, girl," he said.

I resented being called girl but was too tired to argue about it. I stepped forward. Quickly Skjor reached out with his left hand, holding my jaw steady to the right, exposing the mark more for him. I struggled weakly against this treatment, but he ignored me. He brushed his hand over it and I bit my lip so hard it bled to avoid making noise at his rough touch.

"Skjor -" I heard Vilkas say.

"They marked her," Skjor said, not letting me go still.

"She isn't one of them," Farkas said. "She took the antidote."

"But they marked her."

"Let go of me," I said.

He did and I stumbled back, Farkas catching me by my arms.

"We must discuss this," Skjor said, eyeing Farkas.

"She chose not to be one of them," Farkas insisted.

"It doesn't matter," Skjor replied. "Vilkas, take her inside, get her something to eat. Sit her down. We have much to discuss."

Vilkas nodded, watching me wearily. Farkas steadied me before heading out with the scowling elder. Angry but too tired to really let it show I looked at Vilkas. He didn't offer help and I didn't ask. We walked inside but as soon as we'd passed the entrance another wave of dizziness came over me and I hit the floor hard.

Vilkas was there, quicker than the blink of an eye. Without any words he pulled me completely off my feet, cradling me in his arms as his brother had what felt so long ago but where his brother's hold had felt secure, friendly, Vilkas felt as icy and cold as ever.

"Tilma, can you have some food prepared and delivered to my room?" Vilkas asked roughly, but not unkindly.

"Of course sir," she said, not sounding at all pleased with the request. She hated it when people ate outside the Hall.

Neither of spoke as he took me downstairs, to his room, and laid me down on his bed, shutting the door behind us. He firmly but gently turned my head to the left and inspected the mark on my neck before cleaning it once more with warm water, poultrices, and finally a bandage.

"Do you have other injuries?" he asked sternly.

"I'm a little bruised in the ribs and arms...lower back too I think, but it's fine," I said.

He huffed in disproval and prodded my ribs once sharply. I inhaled quickly and glared at him. "You should be treated," he said as way of explanation.

I glared at him some more.

"You can either let me look at them or I can force you to let me look at them," Vilkas said.

"You're kidding," I said. I knew he wasn't.

"Just do it. Do you always have to be so difficult?"

"Me?" I asked, leaning up on my elbow to get a better look at him.

"Yes, you."

I rolled my eyes, lying back down. "Whatever."

"Show me your injuries," he said, slowly, losing patience.

"Why? I'm not your responsibility. You got what you wanted. Skjor won't make me a Companion now that I've been marked by a vampire," I said, snorting. "So much for taking the antidote. I guess Farkas could have just left me there."

Vilkas leveled a long glare at me. "Done?"

I sighed, sitting up. "Yeah. Still don't see why he's so upset."

"Vampires tend to...come back for those they've marked. If he's dead, it's possible his Maker or those he's Made could come looking for you," Vilkas said. "That is also a concern Skjor has."

"He's worried they will attack us?"

"We could handle them. His main concern is whether you would show the unswerving loyalty it would take to fend off repeated offers," he explained.

"I think I've already taken a few for the team," I said. "I wouldn't betray you now."

Vilkas said nothing in reply to that, simply ordered me once again to show him my injuries. I lifted my shirt showing him my ribs. He inspected them, running his hands over them. "Nothing appears to be broken so you won't need a poultice."

"Of course not," I said.

He glared, "See? Difficult. Lay on your stomach."

I laid down on my stomach, uncomfortable with all the bruising but no worse than lying on my back. He pulled at the edge of my trousers and I pulled away from him, glaring.

"You said your lower back was injured," he said. "It's not like I enjoy this."

I snorted. "Thanks."

He took a deep breath and I laid back down, watching his face as he took in my lower back. I watched his brows furrow, his hand running much lighter there than anywhere else. I knew it must be pretty bad to illicit such a response from him.

"That vampire...what did he...they do to you? Exactly?" Vilkas asked, leaning over to pick up a poultice and apply it directly to my back.

"Threw me around a bit. Drank my blood. Offered me eternal life. You know, the usual," I said.

He snorted and I sighed as the poultice started cooling my back. "Nothing else?"

"No, I said that didn't I?" I snapped then looked at his face. Comprehension dawned on me what he'd meant by asking, feeling horrified and awkward. "They didn't...do they...usually?"

Vilkas looked into my eyes, "Eventually. Some of them."

I didn't know what to say to that so we fell into silence as Vilkas refocused on my injury.

"You turned them down," Vilkas said finally.

"You know that."

"Yes I do. Why?"

"It's...not what I want," I said.

"Why not? They're powerful, well connected, immortal. Your reflexes would quicken beyond your wildest imagination. Why wouldn't you want that?" he asked, a test.

"I'm where I want to be," I said, meaning it for the first time in a long time. He nodded and started putting away the medical supplies. "At least for now," I added quietly.

"For...what it's worth, I didn't not want you to be a Shield Sister," Vilkas said.

"Thanks I think."

"You're a good fighter," he said, justifying himself.

"You don't have to do this."

Vilkas looked at me and something in my stomach tied itself into a knot for reasons I couldn't comprehend. His eyes were so much like Farkas's but the face they belonged in was so different. Farkas was happy, simplistic, grateful for everything he had and it showed. Vilkas's face was serious, drawn and stiff from years of worry and hardship. I could see then just how difficult it would be for Vilkas to just relax, to let go. He had a chip on his shoulder, sure, but it was more than that.

"You asked for food, sir?" Tilma said, knocking on the door.

Vilkas opened it as I sat up. He placed it on the bed beside me, and to my surprise sat back down across from me.

I ate slowly, feeling a bit better with each bite.

"I don't think Skjor will reject you," Vilkas said. "I assume you know what we are. You'd be too dangerous left outside the Companions."

I stopped eating and looked at him. "I don't think...that's not better."

Vilkas didn't say anything and I started eating again. Finally he said, "I would have approved you."

"Because of what I know?"

"No."

He gave me another long steady look and I took a deep breath as my stomach twisted again. I pushed the food aside.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Uh, yeah," I lied.

He raised an eyebrow as the door opened with no knock and Aela stood above us.

"Are you able to come outside?" she asked, sounding oddly formal.

"Yes," I said, hoping I was right.

"Then come with me, the decision has been reached."

I nodded and then looked at Vilkas. "Aren't you supposed to help decide?"

He gave me a small smile, looking at something in the corner of his room. I turned to see what he was looking at, and there on a pike was the giant's head I'd rolled in last night.

I looked back at him.

"I already did," he said.


	21. Doubt

I stood from the bed, still dizzy. I wobbled for a moment and rested my hand on the door frame for balance. Vilkas rose and hesitantly reached for me but then pulled back.

"Are you able to walk or do you...need assistance?" he finally asked, sounding reluctant to offer the help.

"I thought you said my injuries weren't that bad."

"Some of them aren't."

"I'll be fine."

I straightened, slowly testing out my first few steps as best I could. The food had helped with a great deal but I was sore. Still, it was nothing I couldn't handle and I really didn't want to have to make my way out to face the Circle's decision one arm over Vilkas and limping, or worse, cradled in his arms like a child.

As I made it to the base of the stairs I felt I was doing pretty well, a little slower than normal, but not enough to irritate Vilkas into forging ahead of me, who kept pace. Then again, with the looks he kept shooting me, he probably wasn't all too pleased about my progress.

Before I could begin the climb upwards, Jared slapped his arm across my back in friendly greeting. I cried out in surprise and pain, and doubled over, grabbing the railing just in time to keep me on my feet while Vilkas quickly reached over and physically moved him several steps away from me.

"Sorry I didn't mean - are you hurt?" Jared asked, shooting furtive looks at Vilkas who slowly eased posture and took a step back from him.

I took a few deep breaths and straightened up. "I'm fine, just some minor injuries."

"Doesn't sound minor," Jared said though he was looking at Vilkas who was staring at nothing in particular.

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I repeated

"I heard you came back with the Shard, Ria just told me. She didn't say you were injured though. So, you're a Companion now?" he asked.

"No, not yet."

"But you will be?"

Vilkas finally focused a long stare at me. I ignored him. "I don't know that yet...there's been...complications."

"Complications?"

I nodded, not knowing what else I should tell him. I didn't want him to worry about what Vilkas had told me, but at the same time I wanted to let Jared know I had done everything I could to become a Companion, that I really had wanted to join. I swallowed hard, thinking about it. Despite all my reservations I had upon arriving, for the first time since I had entered Skyrim my life had some sense of normalcy to it, a sense of purpose, of family.

"I -"

"It is not for you to worry about," Vilkas said.

I watched Jared fight his own facial expressions, trying to calm his anger toward his soon-to-be-mentor (if I was allowed in the Companions at all).

"Don't worry so much, Jared," I said.

He frowned at that but nodded and ran up the stairs, past Ria who had just turned the corner, and out the door. I slowly followed, taking deep breaths at the top, my aching abdomen protesting. Ria put a hand on my shoulder but I shrugged her off, smiling weakly. I was fine. If they didn't accept me, it was their loss.

_ Or you weren't meant to be a Warrior. You were meant to be a Thief. A murderer. An assassin... _


	22. In the Light of the Moon

I looked at Vilkas who watched me steadily as if he could see the battle raging within. Was I going to turn back now and be the "milk drinker" he once accused me of or was I going to go up those stairs and face the Circle?

I took a deep breath, resolving myself. Maybe some part of me was something other than a warrior, maybe not all thieves were immoral, maybe vampires would come for me and the Companions weren't what they seemed, and maybe they wouldn't take me anymore now that I had been "marked." But, regardless of all the maybes, I owed it to myself to continue on the path, if they let me, if that was what I wanted.

I nodded at Vilkas to continue up the stairs before me. He passed by me, flashing me a look with his golden eyes that made me shiver but I couldn't put a finger on the meaning.

"Follow me, Shield-Sister," he said as he began the climb.

Slowly and steadily I followed.

The waxing moon hung high in the sky as I made my way to Skyforge, the rest of the Circle already gathered. I managed to stand straight as I looked into Kodlak's gentle face. It was odd to see a man so clearly dangerous look so...calm, so reasonable. So many other of Skyrim's native population came off harsh and impulsive. Not Kodlak. That's why I was focused on him, and not the glare the man to his right was giving me, the man who had been giving me a very creepy vibe for months: Skjor.

"The Circle is here to determine whether you, Everlee, are worthy of a place among the Companions," Kodlak began. "Farkas was your Shield Brother on this mission." Kodlak looked to Farkas now. "Do you believe she acted bravely and with honor? Does she have the strength and determination necessary to join us?"

I finally took my eyes from Kodlak to look at my Shield Brother. His gave me a characteristic grin before becoming serious, solemn.

"I would stand at her back so that no one may overtake us," he swore.

I was trying very hard not to smile like an idiot and failing. As I looked back to Kodlak, Vilkas caught my eye and I saw that he was giving me a very critical look. Right. Serious. I wasn't going to impress anyone grinning like a lunatic.

"Are there any here that have objections to this warrior?" Kodlak asked.

I looked at Skjor who said nothing, his face wary. Then to Aela who nodded at me in greeting. Finally I looked to Vilkas who had the barest hint of a smile on his face.

"Very well, Everlee, it is with pride and honor that I welcome you into the ranks of the Companions and into the hall of Jorrvaskr as a full member of the Companions. Welcome," Kodlak said.

Kodlak came forward and rested a hand on my shoulder and looked deep into my eyes. "May your days be filled with glory. When you're ready, make your way down for the feast in honor of the Companions and our newest member."

With that he walked on. Skjor approached next, looking me up and down, standing in my personal space once again. "Perhaps…perhaps…" he said quietly and left.

I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to shake the rattled nerves the old man always gave me. Aela approached next, "Another fine Shield-Sister! Knew it the moment I saw you that you were destined for great things. I can even see you in the Circle one day. But that is for another time! I will go tell my cousin the good news."

I looked to the last two Circle members, the twins arguing in hushed voices a few feet in front of me. I stood, waiting and wondering whether I should take my leave and join in with the feasting downstairs or whether I was supposed to wait to hear from them.

"Well, I'm heading down," I finally announced.

They stopped and Vilkas cleared his throat and stood straight up while Farkas grinned and moved forward. Without saying anything he wrapped me in a hug, surprising me and taking the wind out of me. Just when I thought a werewolf-hug would strangle me for good, he stepped back.

"It's official, you're my sister – shield sister! I knew it would all work out Ever, see?"

"Yeah, though with my luck you can't really blame me for doubting…"

"Have a little faith. Shall we go?" Farkas asked, nodding toward the staircase.

Vilkas cleared his throat again, and Farkas turned so we could both see him. "I would have a word with our newest member," he said, sounding very formal.

Farkas tilted his head and the two stared at each other for some time and I got the distinct impression I was missing something. Before I could think much about it Farkas shrugged and said to me, "See you inside, Ever! Hurry or Torvar and Aela will have drank all the Mead."

I smiled back at him before he bound down the stairs and I turned my attention back to his brother. The night was oddly silent now, everyone inside. Occasionally the wind would blow and I could catch the faintest sound of merriment in the Hall below.

I continued to meet Vilkas's gaze several minutes before I breeched the quiet night. "Well? You wanted to speak with me?"

Vilkas nodded and approached the wall overlooking Jorrvaskr, leaning down and pressing his palms to the stone wall. "You're one of us now."

"I figure that's what all the pomp and circumstance meant, yes," I said sarcastically, wondering why Vilkas couldn't be straight-to-the-point like he usually was.

"And you know what we are, what my brother and I have been since we were young, what the Circle is," Vilkas continued, ignoring my sarcasm.

"Yes."

He looked over his shoulder at me and I was struck by his expression, more open than I had ever seen it but still guarded, still reserved. I found myself unable to look away from his yellow eyes, which shone in the moonlight. Slowly he looked back over the wall, his shoulders relaxing slightly. I took a few steps closer and looked over as well.

"My brother is naïve, too idealistic. He thinks the Companions have no flaws, that we  _ are  _ our ideals, not just people. He has too much faith in people in general, he is far too trusting," Vilkas said. He looked at the side of my face and I at him, wondering where he was going but he looked away again. "I would not see him hurt."

"Is he in danger of getting hurt?"

"He is. It is clear to me the boy has feelings for you and he cannot see that it would never work between the two of you."

I pushed back from the wall and stared at the man still bent over it. Sure, Farkas was nice to me, but he was nice to everyone. That's just part of who Farkas was, Vilkas has said so much himself. To think his brother had feeling for me was absurd, and what was more so was that he had any right to interfere even if he did. Farkas was not a "boy" and it was not up to Vilkas to pass such judgments.

"You're being ridiculous," I accused and finally he turned around to face me.

Slowly he raised an eyebrow and took a step forward menacingly, his form passing over the moon and casting me in his shadow. "Am I?"

"Yes. If your brother had feelings, I'm sure he'd tell me. And even if he didn't, how is it you are the one to decide whether it would 'never work?' You think you're a good judge of people? Of me? What do you know about who I am? Not to mention you didn't even bother to ask whether I had feelings for him anyway!"

"Do you?"

"Do I?"

"Do you have feelings for him?" Vilkas asked slowly, drawing even closer so that the puff of breath from his lips in the cool night air brushed over my nose.

"Why does it matter to you?"

Vilkas grabbed my arms, reminding me I was still bruised, still weak, and he was an over-six-feet-tall werewolf.

"He's my brother," he said. I could feel him shaking.

"Let go."

"You're going to hurt him," Vilkas said, emotion laced in his voice like I had never heard before.   
"He's a werewolf, cursed, a beast, damned to hunt for eternity. Would you give up Sovengarde to be like him or have him tear you apart on accident one moon because he couldn't distinguish you from the prey he hunts? Would you have him feel guilty? Feel unnatural in his own skin because each day he wakes after a change he is uncertain of your safety? There is no cure for what we are. Would you give up your soul to remain at his side?"

It was then I knew he wasn't shaking in anger. He was shaking in fear. I looked at his eyes, heavily shadowed as they bored into mine and wondered if I looked hard enough whether I could see the animal within, just under the service. But the longer I looked all I could see was a man, exposed for the first time since I'd known him.

"Him or you?" I asked.

Vilkas said nothing as he straightened and brushed past me on his way down the stairs. I wondered if that was my answer.

Drained and unable to comprehend the long day that lay behind me, I felt the weight of the injuries press in on me, the emotions, the exhaustion. Heavily I sat down, back against the wall, unthinking.

It was then I heard a voice laced with humor from the shadows, "What a heartbreaker."

I drew my blade, staggering to my feet as I looked for the source. "Over here," he said again, and stepped into the moonlight.


	23. A Thief

I sheathed my blades and looked at the thief. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you again, too,” he said, a swagger in his walk as he approached me. “What’s to say I wanted anything?”   


“You normally spy on women in the shadows?”

Valiantly I tried to remain irritated but failing, a smile fighting its way onto my face. The man who had so quickly became common place in my life had gone from it nearly as quickly and with all the fighting, bickering, and troll killing I hadn’t noticed until just then that I sort of missed the thief. Sort of.

“Just some,” he said. “Truth be told, I do need to ask something of you…but it would be better discussed in private. I have a room at The Bannered Mare.”

I looked down at Jorrvaskr, lights still bright and welcoming, a celebration in honor of the Companions and my new place with them in full swing. On the cusp of feeling like I belonged somewhere, I stood here with a thief who needed my help and also served as a reminder to everything I didn’t want to think about and the reason I came to Skyrim to begin with. 

“I can’t, Brynjolf. Can’t you get someone in the Thieves’ Guild to help you?” I asked, not able to look at him directly.

“So that’s how it is lass?” Brynjolf joked quietly. Then seriously, “This one involves you Everlee. There’s a spy in our guild and Mercer thinks you’re involved.”

“A spy? And how? How could this involve me?”

“The Dark Brotherhood has been picking off members of our Guild ever since you left,” he said. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a piece of parchment. “They’ve been leaving this.”

Brynjolf handed me the piece of paper which had a black hand, signed underneath simply as  _ The Breton _ . 


	24. A Night to Celebrate

“Mercer thinks –”

“That this is me? Seriously? I’ve been here this whole time,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. I begin to pace then stopped and looked back to him, “You know this isn’t me, right?” 

“Is it?”

“No!”

“Then I believe you.”

I shook my head and handed him the paper back. “Even if I wanted to randomly assassinate your Guild members, I wouldn’t make it so obvious.”

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow and I sighed. Already my mind was running over all the ways I could have successfully done the same crimes and not implicated myself. This wasn’t what I wanted, to go back to that calculating place. I leaned over the wall, palms on the stone, looking out down at Jorrvaskr.

“What’s Mercer’s plan then?” I asked Brynjolf.

“We shouldn’t be discussing this here,” he replied. “Meet me at the Bannered Mare, tomorrow morning.”

I took a deep breath and stood up straight. “Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Have fun with your celebrations, Companion,” he said, lightly. “Well not  _ too  _ much fun.”

I pushed his shoulder playfully. “Go.”

Brynjolf’s smile faded. “I am sorry about this, Everlee.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said as I turned and headed down the stairs to the meadhall.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I got back inside everyone cheered. I looked around and noticed one member was missing: Vilkas. Farkas motioned me over before I could think too much about it and I took my place next to him and began picking at some food, not particularly hungry but aware I should eat.

"So how does it feel to be a Companion?" asked Jared, who sat to my left.

"Painful," I said, trying to joke.

"Are you...alright Ever? I mean, you're not just here because of me anymore are you? I don't like the idea that -"

"I'm here because I want to be," I assured him. "I'm just tired from the long day and injuries Jared."

"Ah."

I decided then that I was going to enjoy myself. For tonight I would forget about my meeting with Brynjolf and I would definitely not think about Vilkas whatsoever. It was my night, a night of celebration in the midst of all the insanity in my life, and I was going to be fully part of it.

The night continued on, Farkas and Ria keeping me entertained with stories, speaking of their first days with the Companions. Even Njada (who seemed to be vying for position of "who likes Everlee the least") and Skjor seemed to be enjoying themselves. Vilkas never showed.

Eventually a small band of bards, either drawn to the merriment in the hall, looking for stories from the legendary order, or invited by one of the members wandered in and began to play music. An inebriated Torvar bet that Athis could dance better than Njada which led to the first bits of reluctant dance. The hall watched amused as Athis and Njada stiffly moved about the dancefloor, this clearly not an arena they were used to sparring in.

As they passed by the bench Farkas and I now sat on, I caught some of their conversation.

"You look...your hair is...nice like that," Athis said slowly.

Njada harrumphed and said, "Just focus on the dancing, milkdrinker." 

But when they turned and I saw her cheeks were very clearly a dark shade of pink. She caught my eyes and gave me a glare that said exactly what she would do to me if I ever spoke a word of it. Before long they had wandered stiffly off and out of earshot once more.

"They fight hard together but there is something more there," Farkas noted about the odd couple. 

I nodded, watching them. "Too bad it doesn't do anything to soften her edge. If I get called milkdrinker one more time..." I joked.

"Vilkas fights hard with you."

Startled I looked over at Farkas who had a soft smile upon his lips, his supernatural eyes looking sad. It struck me that he looked like a hurt puppy and for a second I had the urge to hug him before taking a deep breath and looking out over the dance floor. Aela and Kodlak now danced, an interesting sight, both had skill and a nimbleness that surprised me. It didn't take my mind off of Farkas's words however, and I looked down at my hands, unsure of what to say.

Finally I looked back at him, his face oddly blank. "I don't think it's the same thing, Farkas."

"I...do not know. Vilkas so rarely shares his feelings with anyone, even me. Aela likes to joke that he has none but I know that isn't true."

"I don't know. He seems awfully good at expressing anger, disgust, and disdain - especially toward me," I joked.

He smiled at that again, but it wasn't a true Farkas grin. "He spoke to me about you recently. He thinks I should not be as close to you as I am."

"I think...he's just worried about you," I said. 

I thought back to the conversation between Vilkas and I and hoped that he had been telling the truth. The idea that Vilkas not only didn't hate me but could have feelings was...incomprehensible. His worry for his brother had been genuine, that much was obvious. Perhaps his fear had been spurred by his own inner insecurities. That I could also believe. Vilkas enjoyed giving me a hard time, perhaps because of Farkas or because he didn't like change, or...what did it matter? I had told myself I wasn't going to think about the angry enigma that was Vilkas and I was going to stick to that commitment. 

"Worried about me?" Farkas asked, looking confused.

"He...told me that he thinks you have feelings for me. He said he would not like to see you hurt. He indicated that I should stay away from you."

"He did?"

"Yes."

We sat in the first awkward silence that either of us had experienced. Until then I wasn't even aware that there was such a thing when it came to Farkas who was so kind and personable that I had never seen an awkward moment between him and any Companion. Most people in Whiterun knew him too, and so did not think twice about the large Nord as he walked about town. Sure, an occasional passerby would wander through town and might be weary of Farkas due to his size and appearance, but the twin seemed to take no notice of it.

"He is right I think," Farkas said finally.

"Oh."   
  
I was stunned. Farkas had been my first friend in Whiterun and we had grown close over the last few weeks. The idea that he thought we should stay away from each other, as his brother suggested, hit a soft spot I wasn't aware I had. He had been a constant source of support and caring. I had fought with my back to his on more than one occasion. It was because of him and his word that I had been made a Companion. The concept of no longer being able to turn to him was more than uncomfortable, it...hurt.

"I guess I should...go...to bed or something," I said quickly and rose.

Farkas instantly grabbed my wrist and stood. He tugged gently so that I turned to face him but I kept my eyes leveled at his chest.

"Why are you going?" Farkas asked.

I tried to tug my wrist free but he didn't seem to notice. I wanted to run from the room as I had run from Riften all those months ago. Finally I looked up at his face and saw the look of hurt and confusion there, his brows wrinkled and his eyes with a seriousness more suited to his brother's face.

"You said I should leave you alone. I was trying to do that."

"No. That isn't what I meant. I do not like to disagree with my brother. I know he is smarter than I am on many things but not about that. He is wrong," Farkas said.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I think I might have feelings for you."


	25. A Moment

I blinked, unsure of what I had just heard. It took a few moments for me to realize that Farkas was patiently waiting for more of a response than dumbfounded silence. I could just see Vilkas criticizing me now while simultaneously saying "I told you so," arms folded impetuously over his chest.

"You do? I mean...how long...I just..." was my very intelligent reply.

"I do not know. Vilkas made me aware of it."

" _ Vilkas _ ?" I said, voice high in surprise.

"He talked to me about you before we left to find the shard. When I saw you hurt I...didn't handle it well. I realized he may be right about it," Farkas said, watching me carefully.

"Is that why you...turned?"

"Yes. I can change at will most times now, it comes with time. Sometimes I can't help it though. I couldn't help it then. Even though I promised Kodlak I wouldn't."

"Oh."

We fell into silence once again and I stared at my hands to avoid his penetrating gaze.

"I'm sorry," Farkas said, "if this makes you uncomfortable."

"I...it's not...just give me a moment, I need to think," I said, stumbling over my words again.

I took a deep breath. It had been months since I'd really had to think too deeply. I had been so focused on "completing the task" ever since I'd left Riften that I hadn't had time to reflect on anything. I hadn't wanted to think about my mother or the fact that I was apparently adopted. I hadn't thought about that night in the cabin with the Breton woman from the Dark Brotherhood. I hadn't wanted to think about natural thieving skills came to me. I didn't want to think about being Dovakiin. I hadn't wanted to think about how I had begun to consider Riften home despite my short stay or how I had been missing Everlee's incessant talking or Brynjolf's laid-back smirk.

I looked at Farkas again and thought about my life since I'd been at Jorrvaskr. It had only been several months but in that time I'd felt safe (despite being sent out to wrangle giants half the time). I didn't have to think about my family situation because they had become my family. I hadn't had to think about my uncanny stealth abilities because I had never needed them. Everything had felt stable, secure, and if I was honest with myself wasn't this what I had wanted all my life, since the first time I had picked up a bow back home in Cyrodiil to be a fighter? To be noble and honest and do good? And unlike the Fighters Guild back home, the Companions felt like more than just sell-swords banded together to make money. They were my family.

I had become complacent here. I hadn't had to worry or plan or struggle to come to terms with life here. It was natural. Just like my relationship with Farkas until the last couple of minutes.

"The Companions feels like a safe harbor in the midst of the chaos that was my life a couple of months ago. I feel like I've gotten really close to you in the last few months, closer than probably anyone else in Skyrim, or even Cyrodiil. I just...I've never thought of you that way though," I said finally. "I haven't thought about anyone that way in a long time. I've just been so focused on what I'm doing that I hadn't considered thinking of anyone that way."

"I understand. It must be hard to be so far from home," Farkas said. "And Skyrim has not been the kindest to you."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "You can say that again. I told you about how I came here to find my father right, or someone who said they had information about him? Well that hasn't been...what I'd hoped for either. Plus the whole almost-got-beheaded deal and the dragons and...yeah. I mean, Vilkas being on my case constantly is life a breeze after everything. I just...you're my closest friend right now Farkas. I don't know how I feel about you but I know I don't want to lose you. I don't want to mess things up."

"We will always be friends, Everlee. Even if you do not end up liking me as more than that. You're my Shield-Sister first," he said, smiling. 

I smiled back, his true grin too contagious to deny. "Good."

"Would you...like to dance?" Farkas asked.

"You can dance?"

"Kodlak taught me, though I am not as good at it as Aela or Vilkas."

"Wish someone had taught me. I don't know how. I'll look more awkward than Njada!"

"I'm sure you will be fine," Farkas said.

He rose from the bench and held out his hand for me to take. Dancing was not something I had done since I was a young girl, brought to a ball put on by the mages of my mother's guild. I remembered awkwardly sitting by the drinks and thinking of all the maneuvers my tutor had taught me the day before until one boy, significantly younger, asked me to dance. I had trampled his feet. He hadn't asked me for the next song.

"Don't count on it," I said but took his hand anyway.

Like some bard-cliche, as soon as I had risen and joined hands with him, the musicians' music slowed and a woman's voice, haunting and high began to sing about some far off ice castle. I was suddenly very nervous and too aware of everything. My feet didn't know what to do, my hands were too warm, my head only came up to the bottom of Farkas's chest. I tried to control my breathing but when that didn't work, I focused on the feeling of his rising chest as he pulled me in closer and we began to dance.

"I'm too short for this," I joked, my voice coming out in a whisper.

"Hmm..." he said.

Without warning he lifted me off my feet and planted me firmly on the bench so that we were now about eye-level, me being slightly taller. I could feel my cheeks burning. A quick cursory glance around the room proved my biggest fear, that everyone was now looking at us.

"Don't worry about them," Farkas said. "They won't judge you."

I thought about saying something about Njada and Skjor doing just that when he pulled me in close again, slowly swaying from side to side. I felt myself calming, relaxing and forgetting about earlier that day or my meeting tomorrow or about everyone in the Hall. Before long, Farkas had picked me up and planted me back on the ground so that we could really dance. I found myself following his lead, matching his moves as I had matched his brother's during our duel. It wasn't so hard when I wasn't trying to overthink it.

When the song ended Farkas pulled away, grinning. "See, you are not that bad."

I laughed. "Thanks."

He smiled and we talked the rest of the night just like the old Everlee and Farkas had. There was no more awkwardness, no more angry brother to get in out way, and I began to feel normal again. Of course, it wasn't the same. I knew how he felt about me. I knew that he was my best friend. I knew I'd be on the look out for any romantic feelings I had for him from now on. But in the end, this was Farkas, and I couldn't be awkward around him for long.

When the night was ending, light shining through to the hall, we called it a night. The bards said their farewells, Torvar was drunkenly sleeping strewn across the bench (having made a failed pass at Ria hours earlier), Vilkas never showed, and no one had seen Athis or Njada for some time. Farkas walked me to the common dorm and stood outside it, instead of simply saying good bye.

"Good morning, Everlee," he said.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I felt something stir inside me as my cheeks heated up.

"Good night, Farkas," I replied. "Wait...did you say morning?" 

"Yes," he said, laughing goodnaturedly. "Did you not notice the sun?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Yes I did...I was just...distracted." 

I commanded my cheeks to stop blushing to no avail. I looked toward the beds, my body aching from injury and fatigue but knew I had to do something first. I looked back at Farkas, and hugged him quickly with one arm.

"I have to meet with someone this morning. It totally slipped my mind," I said.

"You should sleep first."

"No time," I said, quickly rushing inside, shifting through my trunk and finding two potions. 

I downed the poultices quickly, one to keep me awake and one to ease the pain. I didn't like to use them over-much (replenishing them was getting awfully expensive on my limited salary) but this was an emergency.

"I'll be home soon, Farkas," I said.

He smiled. "Home."

I realized I hadn't spoken of Jorrvaskr like that aloud. I smiled at him and nodded. "Bye Shield-Brother."

"See you soon, Shield-Sister," he said and headed off to bed. 

I smiled and then took a deep breath. Brynjolf awaited. 


	26. Waking Up in a Thief's Bed

I made it through the quiet streets of early morning Whiterun at a decent pace. I nodded to a few stall keepers as I walked by, thinking of Brynjolf in his finery in the Riften market hawking potions and poisons. He had looked so natural there, despite the dingy surroundings. But here, here his charisma and attitude would be much better suited. I smiled, thinking of him here, outselling poor Arcadia left and right with just his stall. To be fair, she'd probably get more business if people didn't dread walking in the door for fear of being told how ill they look.

I walked the stairs to The Bannered Mare and went on in. I looked around and didn't spot him so I walked up to the innkeeper, a Nord woman who smiled warmly as I approached.

"Hello, I'm supposed to meet a friend here - " I said, unsure of whether Brynjolf gave out his real name when he traveled.

"Here, he left this for you," she said and handed me a sealed letter.

"Thanks."

I took a few steps away, toward the fire, and broke the seal. Instantly a lockpick fell out and onto my hand. I eyed it curiously before stuffing it in my pocket and reading the note:

_ Ever, must be some party you're at up the hill. I have some business to take care of in the city. If you make it to the inn before I make it back, my room is the third one on the left up the stairs. I upgraded the lock but I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. _

_ Yours, _

_ B _

"Great," I muttered under my breath.

I shook my head and fingered the lockpick in my pocket. I looked at the stairs, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. Only a few minutes in and Brynjolf was encouraging my...talents. Talents I hadn't wanted to think about and that the Companions wouldn't particularly approve of. I was comfortable with this, but...I didn't know what Mercer had planned, and it was best not to have more trouble than necessary. I wanted to clear everything up, preferably as quick as possible.

I looked around, the Inn and bar was empty of most people except one dark elf, mostly asleep in the corner and the innkeep. At least (so far) the odds of me getting caught breaking into a room (permission or no) was small.

I climbed the stairs, looked around the hall, and took out the pick, twirling it in my fingers and then taking a good look at it. I didn't want to do this, he probably knew that, but part of me was curious as to whether I could. What was more, I knew this was supposed to be a challenge, and Brynjolf knew I had trouble resisting those. Stupid red headed thief.

It only took about a minute to open the door and walk into the room. I put the pick back in my pocket, making note to give it back to the thief when he arrived. 

The room was larger than I expected and contained a writing desk on the far side by a window, and a large bed with dark golden sheets in the middle. I shut the door behind me and looked for a chair. Despite the desk, there didn't seem to be one, so I hesitantly took a seat on the bed.

An hour later, and with no sign of Brynjolf, I fell asleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Well, I didn't expect to have  _ you _ waking up in my bed, lass. Well at least not for some time."

I opened my eyes fully and saw Brynolf seated at a chair at the writing desk. I groaned groggily, gaining enough sense to throw a pillow at him which he caught easily. He rose from the chair and placed it on top the other one then stared down at me.

"Not a morning person I see," Brynjolf said. "Though it is mid-afternoon."

I sat up, feeling every inch of my aching and injured body. I thought of how bad it would feel without having been treated yesterday by Vilkas and was suddenly thankful to the Nord for being so damn stubborn. Of course, it seemed all Nords were that way. 

"Where did you get the chair?" was the first thing I managed to say.

"I asked the innkeeper for one. It seemed that my bed was taken."

"Well, yesterday I got beaten up by a horde of vampires, bitten, drained of blood, joined the Companions, and then stayed up all night feasting and dancing so I was a little wiped out. But I had this  _ plan _ to meet with this thief from Riften here, but he didn't show up for a long time so -"

"Vampires, eh? And dancing. I think I'd like to see that," Brynjolf said, smirking. 

I rolled my eyes as Brynjolf took a seat again at the desk. I scooted over to the edge of the bed. "That's what you take out of that, is it? I'm fine by the way."

"I also noted that you rushed over here to see me," Brynjolf said, winking.

I sighed heavily, hoping it would distract from my pink cheeks. "Don't look too much into that."

"I won't," he said. Then seriously, "I expected you would not be over for some time, given the apparent festivities. The Inn was practically empty by the end of the night."

"Probably because people were going to sleep. Anyway, you  _ did _ want to see me right? Oh, and just so you know," I said, and fished out the lockpick from my pocket. "I don't need this anymore."

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. "Oh, but you will. Keep it. That's what I came to talk to you about. I was able to put doubt in Mercer's head about you being our enemy. It wasn't easy but he's willing to give you a chance to prove you're innocent, but there's a catch."

"What's that?"

"He wants you to join the Thieves Guild."


	27. We're Still Not the Dark Brotherhood

I opened my mouth but there were no words. I wanted to scream at him like a small child, throw a tantrum and refuse. Now they wanted me to join the Thieves Guild?  _ Now? _ I had left that life behind, had even put aside my curiosity about my parentage, made a life and friends here in the frozen country and again it all seemed to be falling apart. Was nothing secure here? For a land that held so fast to its traditions for thousands of years, I would have thought that change would not happen so frequently.

"I can't. Brynjolf, I'm a Companion now. They don't exactly approve of...this," I said, holding up the lockpick.

I sounded desperate and I knew it.

Brynjolf's face was that infuriating blank slate before he took a deep breath and just looked tired. "Everlee, we need your help.  _ I  _ need your help. Our Guild has enough problems without being picked off one by one."

I forced my breathing to slow, realizing I was about a minute from hyperventilating. I though of Brynjolf's words. The Thieves Guild was underhanded, yes, but they weren't murderers. They had rules, a code. Was it not better that crime was organized in that way, to make sure the least amount of people were hurt? But still, some of the crimes they committed were against innocents surely. Was that something I could condone? I had felt terrible killing Grelod for Talos' sake. 

But if I was in the Thieves Guild I wouldn't have had to kill her. And what was more, thieves were being murdered. His Guild was being targeted and it was unlikely the Dark Brotherhood would rest until every last one of them was dead if that was their contract. 

I looked at Brynjolf, red hair framing his face, solemn green eyes watching me steadily. If they were working on destroying the guild, eventually they would get to him. I thought of him standing with his arms across his chest, a playful smirk on his face as he watched over Lynn when I'd been kidnapped. I remembered his voice breaking through in the dark of Honorhall cellar. I remembered the way the dart had hit him that night in Riften harbor and my heart racing with fear as I watched him go down, helpless to do anything.

"I'll do it. I won't let you die."

Brynjolf smirked again and raised an eyebrow, amused. "Fond of me are you?"

"You all. Your guild. I won't let your guild die," I said too quickly. "That's a lot of people and you don't kill anyone. Besides, if this is the Dark Brotherhood, someone paid for that contract and who knows what their greater agenda is. Someone should get to the bottom of this."

" _ Right _ ," Brynjolf said, that stupid smirk still on his face.

"Look. I'll join your Guild and help you if that's what it takes to convince Mercer I'm not the one behind all this," I said, irritated. Then I paused to calm myself down.

"No need to get feisty, it was only an observation," he said, laughing.

"I thought it was a question," I said, rolling my eyes. He smiled but didn't say anything and I sighed. "You do know this makes me a target too now, right?"

Brynjolf stopped smiling and sighed. "Yeah, I know lass. That's why I didn't want it to come to this but - let's just say Mercer had a different plan in mind when it came to you and I..."

I was no less stunned by the second time Brynjolf was at a loss for words than I was by the first. "You were upset because you'd have to change your motto of 'we're not the Dark Brotherhood?'" I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled softly. "Old habits die hard."

"Right," I said, imitating his earlier disbelief. I took a deep breath, trying to take this all in and knowing I wasn't going to be able just now. Instead I opted to be more action-oriented. "So. Where do we start?"


	28. A Conflict of Interest

I looked at myself in the mirror in the thief's room, turning this way and that as I examined my new armor. After months of wearing heavy armor it was strange to be without the extra weight. The leathers Brynjolf handed me were nearly a perfect fit, contoured to my body (I tried not to think about how he might have gotten such precise measurements). There were plenty of places for hidden daggers and a belt specifically designed to keep a set of lockpicking tools out of sight from guards. It was light, flexible, silent and I absolutely loved it.

"Are you done admiring yourself in there lass? Some of us would like a go," Brynjolf called from the other side of the door.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door to his room so that he could reenter,"I'm sure you've admired yourself plenty today."

He smiled warmly and gave me a once over as I shut the door. I glared at him, putting my hands on my hips. He chuckled and began explaining our task.

"So our Guild started having trouble before the assassinations began, as you know," he said.

"Yes."

"Recently we found out that some of that trouble isn't just bad luck, that there's someone working against our allies. We went to investigate it and found a letter, the sender only known by this symbol," Brynjolf said, pulling out what looked to be a deed.

"You think that the same person that hired the Dark Brotherhood is the one causing trouble?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said. "One of the Guild's biggest clients is Maven Blackbriar. Do you know her?"

"I scared one of her employees near to death trying to see if they had information about the letter I received but I've...never had the pleasure."

"Well, this letter came from an operation intended to drive a wedge between the Guild and her. After I took care of it is when the attacks from the Dark Brotherhood began. Now it seems that Maven is having trouble again," he continued. "She has sudden new and strong competition from another meadery where she had none before."

"And she wants you to what...put them out of business?"

"Not exactly. She wants us to help commandeer the business. Efforts to buy it were unsuccessful so she requested our help. We have to find a different approach."

"I don't see how this helps you find this symbol-person," I said, uncomfortable with the idea of swindling a business out from under someone. Then I reminded myself that the true owner was the symbol-bearer and also likely the one behind the murders.

"We suspect they're related, another way to weaken the Guild," he said. "We're to set things right and look for evidence that they're related or that points us to a face or name."

I nodded. "And what is this other method we're supposed to use to accomplish Maven's goals?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took only a few minutes to meet with Mallus downstairs, or to be perfectly honest, for Brynjolf to meet with him. Outside of Whiterun I could blend in, no one knew my face and few knew my titles or affiliations, but here they knew me as a a dragon slayer and as a fledgling Companion. It wouldn't do our mission (or me) any good to get caught being up to anything even slightly suspicious. I pulled down my hood, stuck to the shadows, and snuck out the back exit and waited.

I leaned against the back wall, crossed my arms over my chest, and embraced the shadow as if I were nothing more than background. None of the few people that traveled the back alley shot me a glance and I felt a sense of satisfaction. 

"Well look at you, already playing the part," Brynjolf said when he exited, immediately noticing me. 

I stood up straight, "It's the armor."

"Good thing I brought it then," he said. "Come on, I'll explain what we're doing while we move. We've only got a few hours."

We kept to back alleys and shadows as we made our way out of the city and he explained how we were to poison the mead with rat poison just in time for a tasting by none other than the head of the city guard. If all went well, we wouldn't even have to break in, they'd just let us walk through the door to clear up a "rat problem" created just for the occasion.

As we exited, we only saw one guard, lazy from lack of crime in the neutral city and lounging in a chair. He didn't even stir as I watched (and if I hadn't been watching closely I would have missed it) Brynjolf cut loose his coin purse and continue on without missing a step. I decided that as a Companion I should have felt more perturbed than amused by this but I couldn't help myself. Moving through the city unnoticed was nice for a change, and if the man was too inattentive to catch a pickpocket, it was unlikely he'd be much use in the event of an attack (from the Stormcloaks, the ongoing feud between the oldest two families in the city, a dragon, or just some random drunk). 

We made it all the way to the meadery without being noticed or running in to a single problem. Brynjolf opened the door and stepped in and I stopped dead cold because there, right in front of us, was Njada and Athis. Quickly I slipped back out before the door shut and leaned against the wall.

Just perfect.

The window was open so I went over to it and crouched down, listening to the outcome of the situation that I had just let Brynjolf stumble into alone. Not that he couldn't handle it, if anyone could talk his way into or out of something I had no doubt it was the silver-tongued thief.

"What is it you want, Mallus?" Njada asked gruffly. 

"I thought you would never show up! You're from the Companions, right?" Mallus asked. 

"No we're from the Bard's College. OF course we're from the Companions. What else do we look like?" Njada continued.

"Right, well," Mallus said and then began explaining his course of action.

"You called us out here for skeevers as an 'emergency that must be dealt with immediately'?" Athis asked.

"Well it is an emergency the guard captain -"

"You milkdrinker! We had to leave some serious quests behind to see to this because you swore this was 'life or death.' Our companions could be in danger at this very moment because of you!" Njada said.

"I may have a solution," Brynjolf interjected, making his presence known smoothly. "I am a simple mercenary and would do the job cheaply. I am more than capable of the task, as I am sure are the Companions, but I have little work of importance to keep me elsewhere."

"How much would you do it for? I can't offer much -" Mallus said.

"Hey you made us come all the way down here !" Njada interrupted. 

"She's right. If she still wants the job..." Mallus said.

"Give us the damn key and poison," she said.

"Right."

And he led them off into a back room. Brynjolf exited and turned and saw me, shrugging with a smile on his face. "Our job just got a lot more interesting."

"Interesting? This is a nightmare," I said. "If they see me -"

"Then we'll have to make sure they don't," Brynjolf said with that stupid grin.

I groaned, "Easier said than done."

"Isn't it always?" 

"Not the point. Fine, let's do this quickly and quietly."

"Look at it this way, less rat killing for us."

I tilted my head considering that, and then smiled. "True."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brynjolf and I made are way in, slipping by Mallus was easy as he whisked this way and that, preoccupied with making sure his place was tidy before the Captain showed up. We walked into the backroom, Njada and Athis already having passed through. Brynjolf went to check where we'd heard he stored the poison to see if there was any left. I examined the lock.

"No luck here," Brynjolf said just loud enough for me to hear.

"This lock shouldn't take a minute, but I need a different kind of pick -" I said, holding out my hand.

When he didn't give me one I turned my head to him from where I was kneeling down. He was looking down at me amused and I tilted my head in question as he raised an eyebrow. He reached the door handle and twisted. The Companions had left it unlocked and I blushed, standing.

"Well I could have done that," I muttered.

"Come on, lass, we need to get those Companions of yours in our sights or we're going to botch this job," Brynjolf said. "We need to relieve them of some of their poison."

It didn't take us long, sticking to the shadows and moving silently to catch up on the two warriors. Their loud swearing was helpful because even as my heart raced in fear of getting caught, I knew there was no way they would hear us over it.

"Damn it all to Talos!" Njada said. "That's the third that almost took my leg off."

"If you would look where you walk -"

"Don't!" Njada snapped. "Not all of us have special eyes to see in the dark."

Athis sighed, leaning down to remove the trap where she'd caught it on her leg. She'd thrust her blade down to stop it from pressing in too hard but if she moved it would surely bite in. "I do not see in the dark any better than you, my dear Nord.

"Don't call me that," she said, but I could hear the pleasure in her voice.

I rolled my eyes.

We followed as they ran into approximately thirteen more traps and five skeevers. 

"There's more traps than there are rats down here!" Njada complained.

"And yet you continue to miss them," Athis chided. "Or should I say not miss them."

"Shut. Up."

"These two are taking forever," Brynjolf whispered, frustrated. "If they don't hurry, we won't have time to add the poison to the brew before the captain gets there. We need to hurry this up."

"How do you suggest we do that?" I whispered back.

"Let's go around. I'll see if I can snab some of that poison from him when we do," Brynolf said.

_ Oh great, yeah, sneak around them. _ Still as he headed left in the small chamber, keeping to the sides as they worked their way through yet another trap Njada had set off, I went right. I watched as he approached and successfully swiped one of the bottles of poison from Athis's belt, who was too busy staring intently at Njada and lecturing to notice. I shook my head, getting to the other side of the chamber.  _ That was almost too easy _

It was then that I stumbled over some loose tiles. I caught myself quickly but the noise caught Athis's attention. He withdrew his attention from the trap and stood straight, drawing his blade. 

"Who's there?"


	29. Madman

Brynjolf and I stilled, refusing to move an inch in the darkness. I shut my eyes and tried to focus on not panicking. As if on cue my instincts kicked in and my beating heart calmed and I opened my eyes, a sudden clarity to everything. Right. Those thief-instincts were handy and there was no need to deny them now.

"Who's there? Show yourselves!" Athis demanded loudly.

"You idiot, it's probably just a skeever," Njada complained. "It's hardly likely to show itself because you  _ tell _ it to."

"A skeever would have showed itself by now."

"Then maybe it's a regular rat! The important thing is my  _ ankle  _ is about to be  _ sawed off! _ " 

Athis snorted but didn't move. After a few moments of silence, the dark elf shielded his blade and went back to Njada. I took a deep but very silent breath. Brynjolf shook his head in amusement and I didn't need a light to know he was smiling exasperatedly at me. He grabbed my wrist and we quietly snuck ahead. 

Our primary goal was disarming traps. That much went unsaid. When we encountered our first skeever Brynjolf put a finger to his lips and began sneaking around it. I took his lead. While it would be easier to just dispose of the unaware beasts, it wouldn't due to have my fellow Companions wondering at the fresh kills. After all, it wasn't like anyone had been down here for some time by the looks of the cobwebs.

The first problem we encountered was the giant spiders. I swore loudly when one nearly toppled me to the ground, instantly stabbing deep into its eyes on instinct. It's dying thralls seemed to alert it's brood and I bit back a scream as we were swarmed. When we'd finished them all off, I hung my head, trying to still my heart.

"So, you're not afraid of dragons, or assassins, or giants, or -" Brynolf began, humor in his voice.

"Shut up."

"But spiders -"

"I said shut up. No one said I was afraid."

"No, but even in near darkness I can tell. Your face did a good job at not showing the fear but for your movements. A bit harsh for beasts, and probably more suited to a warhammer than a shortsword -"

"Do you have a point?"

"No, not really," he said, the humor back.

"Then you should know there's a nice hiding spot for these carcasses right over here. Have fun with that," I said, and began disarming the traps.

Brynjolf chuckled but didn't object and began to haul them out of the melee. When he'd successfully done that I helped remove the markings of battle with magic, but still, a trained eye would see it. I only hoped they weren't observing the ground too closely. I shivered, thinking of the eight-legged beasts once more and missing Farkas at my side. He'd valiantly chopped the spiders into bits on our mission to receive the shard and I was able to keep my distance and fire off well-placed arrows.

I shook my head, it was no use thinking of that now. If we didn't get keep ahead of Njada and Athis I doubt that I'd have much time in future to spend with the large Nord.

We made good time through the rest of the traps, having seen the first and last of the spiders as luck would have it. 

"We must be near the exit," Brynolf observed. The tunnels had gone from something akin to a cellar to cavelike back to looking like a cellar.

"Thank Talos," I said, thinking of my bed back in Jorrvaskr. After the last two days, a nap just hadn't been enough time to sleep.

Just then I heard a sound that was all too familiar from years of being around my mother and her colleagues in the Guild. Without thinking, I threw myself at Brynjolf, knocking him to the ground as a fireball landed right where he'd been standing seconds before. I could feel the heat on my back, smell the burnt leather there. The pain came almost secondarily, an afterthought as we quickly got to our feet. It could have been much worse, would have been much worse for Brynjolf if not for my split-second action.

In the near complete darkness I'd only had a second to pinpoint the source of magic before it had been slung at us. I quickly cast a spell for light, our cover blown, as we unsheathed our weapons. I didn't have enough light to use my bow so I removed my swords as the thief did the same. Slowly we flanked the area we knew he had to come from. 

Brynjolf had to dodge as another fireball came at him. It was a stupid or desperate ploy by the mage, who's spells, while powerful, would surely give away his location. He must have been used to his first spell doing the trick when it came to unwelcome guests. That didn't mean, however, that he was less of a threat now. A cornered animal will fight the hardest after all.

We dodged and dipped, slowly moving toward the mage who we soon found out was a Breton. Brynjolf was the first one to get to him, making my remaining approach easy as he was no longer able to concentrate on slinging fireballs. He'd switched tactics, his hands gripping at Brynjolf, trying to freeze him to slow down his fast-moving blades. Another risky move as at any moment those searching fingers could be chopped off.  _ He must be mad. _

As he engaged with Brynjolf I quietly approached from behind. Despite the mage's clearly paranoid-honed senses, he didn't detect me until it was too late. I thrust into his unprotected back, near his heart. He twisted enough at the last second to prevent me from piercing it by inches but the shock stopped his casting and Brynjolf thrust into his throat from the front.

The battle over, I pulled out my blade and the man dropped to the ground. I stumbled back. My previous bruises and cuts were now opened and throbbing where the fire had heated the leather and burned my skin.

Brynjolf reached out to steady me. "Are you alright lass?" he asked, concerned. 

Just then we heard two loud and running footsteps approaching and he let go, calling ahead to us, knowing someone was down there with them. I quickly slinked back into the shadows, trying to remain conscious, while the Companions approached. To my surprise, Brynjolf stayed in the open and I shot him a questioning look I only belatedly realized he couldn't possibly see. 

"We'll never hide the body in time," he muttered quietly, as if reading my mind. "Take the poison and put it in the mead. It's potent so this bottle will be enough. Go, quickly."

He threw a flask to me and I realized he was taking the responsibility for the mage as they would know that someone had been there and search for us. What would they make of him being there though? Would they think him a thief? Or a murderer? The Companions were just reaching the other opening of the chamber.

"Brynjolf -" I whispered.

"Just go, lass. Don't worry about me," he whispered back, urgently. "Go!"

I reluctantly but quickly made for the exit.


	30. Burned

Due to the rat problem Mallus had limited his ale to one large container that I quickly was able to open and dump the poison in. I wondered at how strong (and how safe) such a poison would be to affect the entire vat, but I didn't take long to consider it. I had but a few seconds to decide whether I should flee and search out Brynjolf later or wait for him in the shadows to see what the verdict Athis and Njada had come up with.

The safer choice, of course, was to wait somewhere safe and hunt down one party or the other in Whiterun. My aching body begged me for this, to go back to the city and find a healer or at least the safety of my own bed at Jorrvaskr. But I couldn't do that. While I had faith that Brynjolf would find a way out of whatever situation he had gotten into, I had to make sure.

I shut the lid of the vat and went back down the stairs, sinking behind one of the other large containers, figuring that my fellow Companions would be bringing my fellow thief through any minute and wondering what I had gotten myself involved with. It was only a couple of moments later when the door burst open and I heard them.

"You shouldn't have gone down alone!" Njada said. "You stupid milkdrinker. Who do you think you are? Trying to steal our job from us."

I turned slightly to peak out from behind my hiding spot and saw Brynjolf shrug, one of his charismatic half grins on his face. The group passed by my spot and as they did, Brynjolf turned his head and winked and I sighed in relief. It seemed my thief had kept up his merc desperate for money role convincingly.  _ My thief? _

I shook my head, rising up from my crouch as I heard the door shut from the other side of the building. I slowly (the only pace I could manage anymore now that we were out of harm's way - hopefully) made my way toward the exit but hadn't reached the door before it opened again and I quickly dove for cover behind a pillar.

The door shut quietly behind the person and a voice called out, "Lass, where are you?" 

I peeked out from behind my hiding post to make sure it was really Brynjolf and not someone very good at impressions. I wasn't taking any more risks after the last two days. 

"Here, Brynjolf," I said, and began to limp toward him.

He frowned and quickly came over to me, putting his arm under mine for support and leading me over to a couple of crates nearby where he had me sit.

"Let me take a look at that."

He went behind me and started feeling around my armor, I hissed as he touched over a more tender part of the burns.

"Well, we're going to have to get you to a healer. I can't take the leathers off myself without harming you more, they're burned into your back in a couple of places. Mage must have been pretty powerful to do that," Brynjolf said.

I groaned. "A healer? Here? This will definitely get back to the Companions."

"Don't worry, lass. I know someone in town that will fix you up well enough," he said.

I wasn't sure I liked the way he said 'well enough' but wasn't sure I could protest. I enjoyed my place with the Companions and I owed Brynjolf too much to abandon my new Guild this early in, so it looked like I had no choice but to accept whatever shady person he could find.

But finally I had to ask, "What does that mean? I'm not going to be some Apprentice's experiment am I?"

Brynjolf laughed. "He's good with burns, should be able to get the leathers off and do a most the work on those. But you'll probably have to get the wounds you already had looked at again in the next day or two. I got the papers I need for Mercer too so now all that's left is to drag you home."

I sighed, relieved. "Back to Whiterun."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Back in Whiterun Brynjolf had me wait in his room at the Bannered Mare as he went off to find whatever contact it was that could help me out. While I was exhausted, the pain in my back (especially lying down) was enough to keep me awake.

When he returned a few minutes later he entered with a very put-out looking man.

"Everlee, Cairn, Cairn, Everlee," Brynjolf said.

Cairn turned his face to look at me, revealing a horribly burned left side and I tried my best to not react as I turned to my attention back to Brynjolf, trying to get across my doubts as to how well a man with such obvious scars could know about healing them.

Brynjolf laughed and said, "He's the best, trust me lass."

The man sighed heavily, "This is why I stopped working with you lot, all ungrateful."

"She's not ungrateful, just doubtful," I said. "I sort of have leather melted into my skin, if you do this wrong I will have to change my name to leatherback -"

"I know what will happen if I do it wrong. I do not need lectured by an amateur mage." 

"Why does everyone assume I'm a mage?" I said, exasperated. "Just because I'm a Breton doesn't mean -"   
  
"I can sense your mana levels, they aren't low enough to be without magic but they aren't high enough to mean much, now, are you going to let me heal you or not? Because I get paid either way," Cairn said. 

I frowned, the man reminding me of a more mercenary version of Vilkas before I sighed. "Yes, of course."

I sat down on a stool as Cairn instructed. Methodically I could feel him assess my burns. He then grunted and reached into a robe pocket. I knew better than to turn to look to examine what it was in his hand, relying on my other senses to tell me just what he was about to do. I felt a cooling salve burn into my skin and I hissed, but resisted the urge to move. Cairn grunted again, and I imagined it was in approval but I couldn't be sure with the man. He then began healing me with various spells, alternating between that, and pulling back the leather from my skin piece by piece. 

It took about a half hour before the magician straightened up and came about to face me. Brynjolf, who had been examining some of the seized documents, stood when it was done and shook the man's hand.

"Thank you Cairn," Brynjolf said.

Cairn snorted, "You paid me so much I should be thanking you but next time -" he turned to me, "just erect a fire shield. Even you can manage that, yes?"

"I jumped into - " I said, beginning to defend my actions, but the grumpy man was already out the door. "Oh nevermind."

"Well I appreciate your act of heroics, even if it must mean the Companions are wearing off on you too much," Brynjolf said. "Besides, had I taken the burns, it would have been hard for you to explain to the your comrades what you were doing there with a crispy mercenary."

I grimaced at that, trying to picture my stumbling explanation, panicked over Brynjolf's injury and being confronted by one of my fellows who liked me least. I shook my head to dislodge the thought. "I could always say that I was just getting dinner started."

"Fried mage with a side of burnt thief? Hmm, doesn't sound appetizing. Though I wouldn't mind being considered a part of the menu for another time," he said, laughing.

"Must you do that?" I asked, my cheeks flushing. "I think enough parts of me have burned today without my cheeks taking another blow."

"But it is so endearing and so easy, my dear Everlee," Brynjolf said.

"Well your 'dear' Everlee just wants to get into a nice warm bed and - oh stop looking at me like that. I want to get in  _ my _ bed _ , _ not yours," I said.

Brynjolf laughed again, raising his hands defensively, "I said nothing."

"You didn't have to."

"Oh don't pout," he said. His smile eased into a more casual one and said, "But really, thank you for today."

"And er...thank you for not letting Mercer send your underlings at me," I said.

"Oh I'm sure we'll be uneven again before long. Now go if you must, to  _ your _ bed," he said. "You've occupied mine quite enough today."

I rolled my eyes and stood, sucking in a deep breath as the injuries from the day before flared. I turned to look in the mirror in his room and, true to Brynjolf's promise, the severe burns were gone from what I could see of the tattered leather, somehow leaving the old wounds (old being relative, I reminded myself, as I had just gotten them yesterday).

"You should get yourself checked out at the chapel, Everlee," Brynjolf recommended softly. "I will contact you again when we know what our next move will be."

I nodded, and said, "Yeah, I think will. And until then, try to avoid fires. I have no idea who will hop in front of them recklessly for you while I'm gone."

"Only you," Brynjolf said. "Good night."

"Wait, my armor! I can't go wearing this," I said. 

"Right, lass, I'd forgotten."

He stood and went to his trunk, flipping the lid open easily though I had thought it locked. He stepped back a bit and I stared at him, waiting for him to leave the room. I tilted my head. And then finally said, "Really? I don't need help getting my armor off, thank you."

Brynjolf quickly smiled and said, "As you wish."

And left the room. I grumbled under my breath about the increasing inappropriateness of that man as I went to work unbuckling my new and newly ruined armor and adorning my old heavier metal and cloak. My muscles ached and protested under the familiar weight, tired as they were. Finally, and with some struggle, I was ready to go back to the Mead hall for some well deserved supper and rest. 

I opened the door and nodded to Brynjolf, who entered, gently placing a hand on my shoulder as he retreated to his quarters and shut the door. Part of my brain wondered what he meant by that, but the rest was too tired to even ponder if there were a deeper meaning than 'farewell.'


	31. The First Camp

I should have supposed it was too much to hope that after slipping in quietly to my bed at Jorrvaskr that night that my first day not secretly running Thieves' Guild errands as a full Companion would be a peaceful one. No, it was definitely too much to think that after being injured (twice, though at least partially repaired the second time) that I wouldn't have some member or other glaring down at me as soon as I woke up. 

First it was Njada who startled in alarm when she awoke and saw me sleeping. My trip back had happened well after the sun had gone down and even the hardiest of my bunkmates had called it a night. Apparently, she was the first one awake, and more than a little irritated.

"What are you doing here?" she said, her voice a little too high pitched.

My eyes flew open at her cry and question, instantly spotting how Athis's hand had went toward his sword even as his eyes flashed open as well. I would have been proud of unsettling the Nord with my sneaking skills (even in heavy armor and injured, so that  _ was _ an accomplishment) had she not woken me up after the first good couple of hours of sleep I'd had in two days. Not to mention, she had awoken the rest with her initial cry of alarm. 

"I live here?" I asked, my voice hoarse with sleep.

"Go away Njada," Torvar groaned into his pillow, rolling over to face the wall.

"You weren't here last night."

"I got in early."

"In heavy armor?"

"No in my under things."

At that Torvar very quickly rolled back over, and I glared at him. Still, I refused to sit up, I needed the sleep. The nord grinned goofily at me before shrugging and turning back over to face the wall.

"What's the matter?" Ria asked, her sweet voice trying to diffuse the situation.

"Apparently I broke curfew," I said, groaning, and taking a page from Torvar, I rolled over.

xxxxx

Sleeping too late is frowned upon in the Companions. It isn't written down anywhere and there's no official rule against it, but unless you were too injured to hold a blade (and in the Companion's mind, that meant you were literally bleeding out on the floor), they expected everyone up by a certain time. There were exceptions.

But today was not one of them for me.

Skjor eyed me and gave me the briefest lecture I was to receive that day. "Wake up earlier pup, or you'll find yourself at the wrong end of the hunt."

The thought of him in his wolfly glory hunting me down as I ran for my life flashed before my eyes and it took a long while for me to dislodge it.

It was too late for breakfast, though almost time for lunch. I knew that before long I'd be expected to report in to a Circle member (and I hoped to find Farkas or Aela first) to see if any new duties awaited me. But I was hoping to sneak off to see a healer first.

But it's harder to slink out in broad daylight, when Vilkas is literally waiting just outside the front entrance of the meadhall. 

"Where were you?" he demanded, wasting no time.

"Sleeping. I already got the talk from Skjor so if you're -"

Vilkas leveled a glare at me that made my stomach flip, which wasn't fun since it was achingly empty. It struck me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I tried to stop myself from dry heaving.

I watched as his glare faltered for a second as I leaned down, bracing my hand against the front wall. Quickly I straightened and Vilkas's angry expression took up it's rightful place.

"You're first day as a Comapnion and you disappear. Farkas tells me you had no sleep, nothing to eat, and refused to inform him of your whereabouts. And then you don't sneak in until the cover of darkness. Do you have any explanation for your behavior?"

"I didn't think I'd take so long?" I questioned.

Vilkas's face didn't waver as he stared me down. "I repeat, where were you?"

"A friend came in to town. From Riften. I owed him a favor. I thought I'd be back by mid-afternoon. I apologize," I said.

Partially I told him this because I was in the wrong (in more ways than I could tell him) and also because I had hoped it would bring about the swift end of the conversation.

"I take it then that you are healed enough for combat," he said. I opened my mouth to answer but he didn't give me the opportunity. "Because we will be very busy the next couple of weeks."

"Let me guess with giants. Wait, did you say we?" I asked.

"Yes, I will be your shield-brother, though we may occasionally take others with us. As Skjor suspected, several isolated groups of vampires have placed themselves around the city. They will attempt to enter here at night, perhaps through infiltration. But we will stop them before they get here."

"The Silver Hand?" I asked.

"No. Not the Silver Hand, at least not directly. It appears these are...creations of your vampire."

"He's not my -" and then I realized what that meant. "For me? Already? But why?"

"He marked you and he died for it. My brother took one of theres, and in return, they seek to take one of ours. We must take the fight to them before they can organize together," Vilkas said.

By his straightforward nature and lack of glare, I realized that our work was imperative, and constrained by time. I nodded, all thoughts of healing priests and food gone.

"Allow me to retrieve my things," I said. 

Vilkas nodded, giving me leave. As I walked in I saw lunch being served. In Torvar's hand I saw an uneaten chicken leg and snatched it. Torvar protested but I smiled, not stopping as I bit into it and headed downstairs, quickly devouring the food before I made it to my trunk. I reached inside, quickly swallowed half a health poultrice (it wouldn't heal them anymore than they had, but it would provide relief), and gathered it and a couple more for the road, adding a small mana potion as well and sheathing a few extra daggers to add to my already equipped swords.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vilkas spoke very little as he led me to the first settlement, which was new. The walk was long enough for my mind to wander from the vampire camp we were headed toward to what had happened between him and I the last time we'd spoken. I also wondered if Farkas had told him of our talk at dinner. 

Part of me also wondered at the fact that I hadn't spotted Farkas that before we'd left and I found it odd that he had not volunteered to be my Shield Brother on the task. But I wasn't about to inquire to Vilkas about any of that, we had a job to do, and I found his company bearable when he wasn't speaking or glaring at me (much to my surprise, it was one of the first comfortable silences I'd experienced in some time).

The vampires were camped in the open, their thick dark tents must have been able to keep the sun from frying their skin. It was impossible to discern any shape despite the sun being directly overhead so we couldn't tell if and how may were awake. A quick scan of the area as we approached didn't indicate that there were any other sentinels outside the large structure (apparently vampires traveled in style).

"Are you ready?" Vilkas asked.

"Yes," I said. 

"I scouted no more than six vampires in this group yesterday as they made their way here. I do not know if they have gained more, so be on guard. I want you to attack from the front, lure them out slowly. Do not get dragged in. I will go through the back, slashing it open to catch them from behind. Understood."

"Yes?"

"Very well. Give me five minutes before you draw them out."

He didn't wait for a response, rather stalking off in an eerily quiet manner (considering it was obvious he was not attempting to be so silent) as I waited. After five minutes I approached the tent. It would be dangerous to simply pop a head in, and I would risk being dragged inside and surrounded no matter how I would broach the tent. There was no subtle way to enter the front flap. 

"Hey you vampiric cowards!" I said.

It wasn't exactly witty but it was the best I could come up with. I could hear movement inside the tent though, very quiet. Still no one approached.

"You want me? Here I am!"

It occurred to me that they no doubt suspected this to be a trap.

"Come on, you really think I want to be a dog? You know how much those men  _ smell _ ?" I said loudly.

A chocked laugh abruptly cut off but still nothing. I rolled my shoulders, which was a bad idea because it reminded me of my injuries that needed re-attending. But at least I no longer had the burns...And that's when it me. 

Or well, that's when the fire ball hit the tent. I had aimed for the top. If they couldn't be lured out without me risking getting dragged in then surely their weakness to the fire would.

And indeed they  _ did  _ run out. All six of them. Two women and four men of varying races and size, all pale and swift and glaring at me, even as steam rose from some of their skin. I raised my swords.

The first attack was simple, a lackey. Too sure of his new his powers and grace to consider that a mortal in heavy armor could be quick enough to slice his head from his neck. He wouldn't be making that mistake twice, his body turning to dust.

Then two more approached, moving out from the tent that was now slowly burning just inches behind them. A short dark elven girl, maybe only fifteen when she Changed, was the threat. The other, a lean khajiit was somehow slower and less graceful. But then again, it might have something to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten in some time, as was evidence in the steam rising from his fur. It wasn't long before a cut to his hamstrings had bim crawling away, as I had kicked his swords away.

It was then, however, that they decided to attack all at once. An arrow flew past me, missing my shoulder by inches. A second darker arrow, caught my right one but only managed to lodge itself into my armor, not my flesh, as another melee fighter took up the fallen Khajiit's place. This one was a nord and even taller than Farkas. There was a greenish tint to his skin that eluded to the reason for such a height, and a sloping large forehead. 

I managed to lead them a bit aways. The tent was in raging in flames behind the vampires and I had to wonder where Vilkas had gotten off to. Surely he wasn't so daft as to have gotten caught in there. He should have made his way out long ago. Where  _ was _ he?

The fighting wore on as I attempted to dodge arrows, two swift daggers, and a waraxe in heavy armor. I sorely missed my destroyed gift from Brynjolf as the battle continued and I was too slow to dodge the blunt end of the axe as I dodged the dunmer's daggers. I was thrown to the ground. Before I could get up the girl stabbed through the leather trousers, and deep into the ground as I tried to yank my leg away, too slow again.

Desperately I withrdew one of my own daggers, and threw. It lodged itself into the young girl's throat (though who knew how old the vampire really was) and I felt my stomach twist in guilt to see her fall. I had no time to reassure myself that she was a vampire, immortal, and I couldn't view her as a victim as they continued their onslaught. 

I quickly reached down, yanked the blade out and jumped to my feet, having to dodge another blunt-side throw from the half-nord. After dancing around the blade and trying to place him between the archers and me, I managed to find a weak spot in his heavy armor (he being the only vampire that chose not to go with the light leathers of his fellows). It would be fatal, I knew, if he were mortal. But he wasn't. I quickly used my other sword to behead him as he fellt o his knees. 

Which left me exposed to the archers. Before I could devise some weak magical barrier or attempt to find some cover in the open plain, an arrow shot through my armor of my other shoulder and into my flesh. I hissed in pain, but managed to break out in a run towards them. It wasn't exactly the safest strategy but there was no cover to be had. 

I managed to somehow avoid arrows, steam barreling into one archer. I didn't have the weight or strength of a nord, but my momentum did enough to knock the smaller archer, a bosmer of about my height back and into the fire where she screamed and attempted to get out. She managed to but not in time to safe herself as her body quickly turned to ash and by then I'd turned my attention to my last opponent, a proud look altmer who had sheathed their bow and was holding up his hands defensively.

I hesitated for one second and a twisted smile found its way on his face. I knew an instant my error, so many of mother's friends and guild members had been altmers. They were by far the most adept mages. It was a stupid mistake, and I paid for it by a large blast of wind to my face that knocked me several feet back and onto the ground. 

I instantly tried to get up but found I couldn't, that my shoulders were caught on something. I looked down, not something, someone. I had forgotten about the Khajiit who had one deceptively strong arm wrapped around my chest, and a dagger pressed to my throat.

He rasped out one word, the breath from his lips brushing against my neck, "Finally."


	32. Between Camps

_ Where i _ s  _ Vilkas when you  _ need  _ him? _ I thought, my mind scrabbling for a strategy. But between the high elf with the fire ball in his hand and the Khajiit literally breathing down my neck I couldn't. My mind was blank. 

And then there was a yell, as Vilkas came around from the tent, heaving his giant sword with supernatural speed and cutting through the elf's neck. Quickly I reached into my belt and pulled out another hidden dagger (increasingly glad that I'd come prepared), and stabbed backward, into the the cat's face. I let out a cry and I kicked myself up and away as he released me. Quickly I turned around, took the steal blade from its eye, and stabbed it in the heart. His body slowly turned to dust before me.

Breathing hard I watched until I was sure it was dead, when I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me around roughly.

"What were you  _ thinking _ ? You could have got yourself killed!" Vilkas said, all previous professionalism gone.

"I did what you asked, I drew them out," I said.

"With  _ magic _ !"

"There's nothing wrong with using magic. It's not like I use it often -"

"How about using your head? How am I supposed to enter the tent that's on fire? Did you just assume they would all come out the front entrance?"

"I -" I paused. Yes, I had. "You said there was only six." 

"That I knew of at the time. I said there could be more, and five spell casters made their way out the back. And now on top of that you set a blaze that any nearby camp could see even mid-day!"

He was right of course. It hadn't been a well thought out plan. And I had paid for it again. Just like I had when I hadn't been quick enough to fight the vampires with Farkas. Just like I had when I threw myself in front of a fireball for Brynjolf. I was making a habit of this, and if I had to be honest, I was probably more angry with myself than I was with the raging Nord looking at me, yellow eyes narrowed and sword still clenched tightly in his hand.

"Well, how would you have lured them out? It's not like they responded well to the 'hey vampires come out' call," I said irritably. 

Vilkas hand tightened and untightened around the hilt of his sword as he stared down at me, eyes flashing and too angry to speak (which was saying something as Vilkas was normally mad at me). Finally he sheathed his blade and said, "I would have thought for an archer that was obvious."

I had completely forgotten about my unsheathed bow. And of course he was right, I was an archer, it had been my first weapon and I prided myself at being quite proficient with it. I had used it on every single giant he'd sent me to fight. Of course, I couldn't see my targets through the thick, dark tent, but surely a few arrows would have found targets, enough to rouse them out.

And while I knew this to be true, all I wanted to do was just yell at Vilkas. Like an admonished child. I tried to reign in my anger though, the last thing I needed was to have  _ him _ watch me fall apart. Because that's what I knew I was on the edge of doing. Not even a true Companion or Thieve's Guild member for three days and I was coming apart at the seams. I had faced dragons, and giants, and now some nords and vampires had me fumbling for firm ground to stand on.

"Well?" Vilkas asked. "What do you have to say for yourself? Is this how it's going to be now that you're a Companion? I'm doing this for you, because  _ you _ put our Guild in danger, because it's you they're coming after. But if you'd rather throw yourself senselessly at them -"

"Shut up!" I yelled. Before he could speak I continued, "You're right. Ok? You're right. I was stupid. Today, yesterday, the day before. I've made a lot of mistakes. Just like you've been asking for since day one. And at any moment I could get one or both of us killed."  _ Just like I put Brynjolf and Farkas in danger. _

"Are you done?" Vilkas asked, practically a growl.

"No. Honestly, being right isn't enough for you is it? I'm thinking the only reason you decided to come along is because you wanted the opportunity to watch me fail. I don't know why you didn't send Aela or Farkas if you can't stand me so much. Well, maybe I know why you didn't send Farkas -"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vilkas asked, taking a few steps closer.

My heart started beating faster, the stupid Nord was towering over me again but I wasn't going to back down, not now. I looked up at him, resolutely, and continued.

"Because your brother actually likes me, one of the only Companions who does. And you'd just hate to see him happy. Or maybe you really do just think I'm incompetent, that I'd see him hurt. Either way, I know you don't want us to be around the other, he told me that. Awfully convenient that I didn't see him at all before you whisked me away."

"My brother has other things to attend to. And what I've told my brother is no business of yours -"

"What I can't fathom is why you didn't go with him on whatever quest he's on. You could have sent anyone else with me. You didn't have to come along personally to -"

"I didn't expect you to fail. Why would I vouch for you as a Companion if I thought you were as incompetent as that?" he asked, irritated.

"I - don't know," I said, looking away from his face.

"You're angry but it isn't me you should be angry at," he said.

I looked him in the eyes again, "I could say the same of you."

Vilkas grimaced but said nothing. Finally he looked off, to the north. "We should go. There's a camp nearby that's sure to have seen the flames. If we don't attack them today they'll warn the others. If we hope to have any chance to prevent them from uniting, we must go now."

I nodded, and we started off again.

As we walked I tried to focus my mind. I hadn't been focused before the last fight and perhaps that had been part of the problem. I opened my mouth to ask Vilkas what the plan would be for this new clan but that isn't what came out.

"So why did you come with me? Did Kodlak..."

"No, I chose."

"Oh."

"I was the one who scouted out most of the camps. It made the most sense."

"I see."

"What does that mean?" Vilkas snapped.

"I didn't say anything. You don't have to be so defensive."

Vilkas laughed, and the sound shocked me. I wasn't sure I had heard him laugh, not since our duel. "This is coming from you. After that outburst."

I frowned, "You started it."

"You sound like a child."

"No just your annoying shield-sister."

And the corner of Vilkas's mouth quirked up. The sight was such a welcome sight that I smiled despite myself as I looked to our new destination.


	33. Captured

The second camp was smaller than the first, only five members total. They were stationed in a cave at the base of a large hill. Vilkas came up with the plan and it worked exactly as intended (even if he had repeated it several times in great detail, including the explicit instruction "no fires"). It had been late evening when we'd made the approach, on the cusp of the vampires gaining their full strength, but we'd beaten them before they'd gained the advantage. 

Vilkas and I looked over the camp for any information they might have been carrying or valuables worth taking back to the guild or taking as trophies. Sadly their gear was sub-par at best and the only bit of parchment any of them carried simply said "head to Whiterun."

The next several days were spent hunting clans, most of them no bigger than two or three. It turned out vampires were not like wolves, and preferred to hunt alone. In groups they were powerful, viscous, and deadly against enemies. The only problem: when their were no nearby enemies they were just as nasty to each other. 

Vilkas and I began to work well as a team despite the silence that so often existed between us. At least it had changed over time from angry or uneasy to comfortable. At times on the road I could almost forget he was there. In battle, however, I was increasingly aware of his presence, the way his body moved, his tactics. Despite the large sword, his hard hitting and quick methodology of cutting down his foes fit mine quite well and I was often reminded of our first duel together.

After about two weeks on the road I knew things were about to finally come to a close in the vampire-magnet phase of my life.

"Well, we'll camp here for the night. The last two camps are east of here, bigger clans. They may join together. Regardless, they looked older, more experienced. It is unlikely they will travel over the open plain. They will probably circle around this way or to the south. Skirt the mountains until they're forced into the open. More of our brothers will meet us tomorrow and we'll begin attempting to hunt them, trying our best to split them up."

I nodded. My wounds had progressively begun to ache so that now it was an ever present pain but I knew better than to complain to Vilkas. I'd been called a milk-drinker enough already. I had also avoided anything to relieve the pain. A health poultice would likely do no more good than the previous ones, only able to do so much, and anything else might make me too drowsy for any stray midnight visitors that often liked to scout our way as we camped at night.

Vilkas took first watch and I fell into an uneasy sleep, feeling too hot to be comfortable for the first time in the cold country. I watched the Nord keep watch, facing away from me until my body could no longer resist the exhaustion bearing down upon it, and gave way to sleep.

***

I was woken in the night but Vilkas frantically tugging on my armor. "Wake!" 

I did, feeling stiff and heavy. Slowly I began to rise from my blankets but it was too slow for Vilkas who yanked me off my feet. My legs shook beneath me and I went to reach for my armor but the Nord pulled me forward before I could reach it.

"I have your bow and sword but we must move now!" he said and began practically dragging me away from camp, my foggy brain still attempting to catch up.

"What's...what's happening?" I asked, slowly gaining my legs.

"Vampires, they seem to have come to us. There are too many for us to handle alone and unprepared."

"Why...weren't you...on watch?" 

"They used magic, a whole line that made them invisible and I - I did not see through it. I barely noticed until we were nearly surrounded. If we are lucky -"

It was then that I too, began to see past the masterful illusion spells. My mother had taught me to try to see the tale-tell signs but in the dark with vampires who had centuries to learn the art? I couldn't exactly blame him for having missed it, werewolf senses or no. There were at least thirty vampires holding a perimeter and closing in on our location, all holding up the spell in an arch around them. 

They were still a little bit away from the camp and we were quickly closing the distance between us and their line, aiming for an opening we could only hope they wouldn't cover. One or two we may have been able to dispatch of before their surreal speed would have them all descending upon us. We had been only minutes before that had happened anyway.


	34. Bonus Chapter: Vilkas

Both Nords that held Vilkas were a head shorter than him. One with copper hair smelled of the poultices he knew magic users favored to restore their energy and the other had dark hair with a long braided beard. Though they were there to make sure he would not attempt escape, they and he both knew that wouldn't be possible the way his calf had been torn by the arrow. The leader, a man they called Cairne, led them at a brisk pace though Vilkas made sure to make the trip as difficult for his captors as possible, dragging heavily at times to exaggerate the serious injury that had doomed him and his shield sister to rot in a vampire stronghold.

They led him down a path of winding cave halls, which Vilkas had realized some time ago were familiar to him. Long ago, in his early days as a Companion he and his brother had been sent here to clean the place out of spiders and other wild beasts that had been escaping into the fields at night and destroying nearby livestock. He knew this could aid him if they gave them the slightest opportunity to escape. Though how likely that opportunity would be was of great doubt.

Finally they reached a small open chamber. In the center was a rectangular cage, tall enough for him to stand in and with length about twice his own though the width was a little confining. One corner of the cage contained a chamber pot and there was a small slot on the door for food to be passed through. So they were smart enough to know better than to let him out once they'd put him in.

Cairne opened the door and the two Nords practically dragged him the rest of the way. When they let go he lifted his chained wrists to grasp bars nearest to him, keeping himself on his feet. They shut the door behind him, seemingly surprised he made no attempt at escape despite his vulnerable state and the fact that his companion was currently at their disposal. He quickly pushed that from his mind. She would be fine, she had to be.

"Come dog and I will remove the chains, but try anything and there will be an arrow planted in the back of your skull. My marksman are good enough to get through the bars and you'd be dead before you so much as touched me," Cairne said.

Vilkas noted the man had the same tone a young hopeful had had months before when he had come to join the Companions: exhilarated, arrogant, and overcompensating. If he were to guess, he'd say that this Cairne was newly promoted and the job of capturing two Companions, one of whom had the Blood and was a Circle member, was like nothing he had ever done before. He knew when the vampire would tell the tale to his fellows he would exaggerate his part in it.

Still, the Companion complied, remaining still as Carine's thin hands reached through the bars, something Vilkas would not have been able to manage himself, and unlock the silver chains along his arms. He made sure not to give the man any sign that they had hurt but the burn marks that glared up at him once the metal had fallen away did that for him. The vampire smirked, keeping his eyes on Vilkas who watched him steadily as Cairne reached through the bars once more and pulled the chain free from the cage.

Once the man stood up he flashed Vilkas a thin twisted smile that spoke volumes as he said, "Now that the dog's locked up, it's time I head to dinner. What do you think she'll taste like, beast? Have you tried her? She smells...divine. But I could see by the way you looked at her that you already knew that. It must drive you mad on full moons, the memory of her smell, the way her hips move when she walks -"

Vilkas knew the man was baiting him but he couldn't help but be pulled into the rage that had up until that moment just existed along the edges of his mind. The thought of Cairne's thin lips, sneering as he lowered them to the Breton's neck, brushing aside a lock of her dark hair to sink his fangs into her -

He threw his arms, slamming his hands around the bars nearest Cairne, his grip tight around the steel. Cairne simply smiled.

"Down boy," he said, gleefully. "Weren't you ever told not to bite the hand of your owners? And here I am, the one who owns you."

Vilkas growled low in his throat but Cairne simply laughed and turned his back on him.

Would they really allow some lackey to feed on Everlee? Surely there was some higher-up they were waiting for because they talked as if they planned to keep them some time. If too many drank from her, or some little nobody lost control, there'd be nothing left of her to present to the man or woman in charge.

Vilkas tried to shake the thought of Cairne...feeding, but it was difficult. His mind could only conjure the vampire or his shield-sister the last time he'd seen her. Even in the dim light of the tunnel it was obvious that the Breton was paler than the day before. He'd noticed it, of course, the way she'd been slower to rise, how she had woken less and less in the night despite being a light sleeper. He could seem to smell...something off with her. But she had said nothing to him about what was ailing her, simply put on a stiff upper lip when he had inquired about whether she was ready for their upcoming battles and he's foolishly let it slide. Let her be stubborn and deal with it alone if that's what she wants.

But now...alone and cut off from any aid, there would be nothing he could do to help her. If she was ill, would the vampires take the time to treat her? Would they even notice? And what would happen to them once the person they awaited arrived? Not to mention he was aware of the very real possibility that they would both be tortured for information, punishment, or entertainment.

Minutes passed into what felt an eternity as he paced in his cage to the mocking of his captors.

"Look at the trapped wolf, I bet he'll lose his mind, if he has one," the copper-haired fellow said.

"More like rabid dog."

Finally he didn't think he could take it any longer when a new face entered, that of short wold elf in dark leathers. He tapped copper-hair on the shoulder and nodded back the way he came. The Nord smiled and left his post as the wood elf took his place.

"Where is she?" he demanded finally, unable to keep quiet. He didn't expect an answer.

"The snack is in use right now, pup," the wood elf said with a surprisingly deep voice. "Hardly a satisfying portion but I'm sure there will be some left for you when we're done."

Vilkas let out a shout of frustration, throwing his hands at the bars once more but the steel did not give way at all. His guards laughed.

Surely he couldn't be telling the truth, they couldn't all be feeding from her, no matter how small the blood drawn. He'd estimated at least three dozen of them earlier. She was going to die.

He had to sit down. The rage burning in his chest felt like was going to burst from him but he knew he had to contain it, had to keep it under the surface lest it rip out of him literally. He sat against the bars, head tilted up, and tried to focus on relaxing his rigid muscles, of not thinking about anything but easing the tension from his body.

It wasn't long before copper-hair returned and relieved the other Nord. All Vilkas's muscles tightened at once at the disruption and he had to begin the practice of relaxing them all over again.

The next time someone came Vilkas took a deep breath and looked up from where he'd been staring at his legs in deep concentration. To his surprise, it wasn't the dark-haired Nord but Cairne and in his arms he carried a small form he recognized.

Vilkas leapt to his feet. Her eyes were shut and she was so pale that he was afraid she was dead until he focused on the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

Quickly copper-hair readied himself at the cage door.

"Back up beast," Cairne demanded.

Vilkas growled but was anxious to check on his shield-sister so he obeyed. He backed to the far side of the cage as copper-hair took the key from Cairne's belt and opened the door before putting it back on his belt. Cairne then walked in, bent just slightly, and dumped Everlee on the floor as if she were garbage before slamming the door shut with a loud metallic bang.

Vilkas rushed to her, quickly getting on his knees. Her skin was pale and there was a look of pain on her damp face even as she lie there, unconscious. There were no visible marks though there was an odd...metallic scent to her that seemed off. Life-drain. They had used life-drain on her, one of the most painful spells ever cast on another and only known by vampires and certain blood-cults.

"Pity I didn't drink from her but the way she screamed was simply delicious. Too bad the sound was muffled by that gag Benovere put on her because the sound of her pain was quite...arousing," Cairne said.

Vilkas stood, stiff, and shaking with anger. No words or sound came forth from his chest as he shook violently, the edges of his vision darkening as he glared at the vampire. There was no heartbeat from this man to indicate nearby prey, to dance in his ears and entice him to hunt but the impulse to tear out his throat with his teeth was overpowering.

The only sound he could hear was a soft thudding from just before his feet. His eyes turned down, the yellow in them alight as he took in the form before him. Weak, vulnerable, sick - easy prey. Hair broke up from his skin as nails turned razor sharp. Prey, he needed to kill, to rip, to tear out his enemy's heart and lap up its juices.

No!

Vilkas threw his body violently back, to the opposite side of the cage. No he couldn't turn, not here, not now. He couldn't lose control, not with her so close. His shield-sister was the only person he would get a hold of, the only victim he would take if he failed to keep the wolf chained within. He bent over, trying to stop the transformation, to ease the misdirected rage.

Cairne laughed. "Something the matter pup? Are you getting a craving for young female blood? She's right there, we left some for you."

Vilkas roared, and barely stopped a full transformation as his body convulsed hard once. He wanted to yell at Cairne, to tell the filthy bloodsucker to shut up before he ripped out his throat, but his mouth was more canine than Nord now.

"Taste her. Go on, she's right there."

Vilkas shook violently, a half-human half-beast roar escaping his lips, "No!"

"Cairne!" a stern reply from a smooth-sounding voice. Part of Vilkas recognized the leader, Brenovere, in that command. "Do not bait our guest. We do not need to tempt such a wild dog to feast."

Vilkas looked up, watching the man, panting and trying to stop the last bits of his transformation. Most of his bone structure was still human, his arms which ended in long claws, were thrown out to grab either side of the cage. He gripped the bars tightly, trying to keep himself back, knowing that as long as he could hold them there that he was still human, that he was still Vilkas, that he wouldn't murder his own.

Brenovere slowly walked up to the bars, his deep eyes holding Vilkas's.

"Let us see how much willpower this beast has," Brenovere said. "To hold back half-transformed...he must not be too much of a 'pup' as you called him."

Vilkas shut his eyes, trying to tune out the vampires' conversation but without their words all he could hear was the sound of the only beating heart in the room besides his own. It was faint, even fainter than before. A quiet, sad sound. The once-vibrant girl he had known now weak and defenseless before him.

He pictured her the first day they'd come across her, fighting a giant with nothing more than her traveling clothes and an old finely-crafted bow. He could picture clearly the way her lips tightened slightly when he'd gruffly lectured her, the pang of embarrassment from almost being used as a cushion still fresh. He could see her eyes light up as they battled, the world around them a blur as their swords clanged again and again. He remembered the thrill that had coursed through him then, the first time he had felt alive in years outside of his wolf form, and written on her face was he assurance that the same adrenalin that shot through his veins was coursing through hers. He thought of the night of her joining their order, how her eyes had widened at his revelations to her, how some of the girl's youth and naivety still shone through so clearly at times it made him ache because despite his own limited years, he could not remember a time when he had been so young. That night he remembered the anger laced with something he couldn't place at the time but would later come to realize was fear as he'd spoken to her and how despite that, his eyes couldn't seem to stop traveling to her hair and how it looked in the moonlight.

When Vilkas opened his eyes again, the surreal light in them had faded. He stood still, quietly breathing in and out as his gaze rested on his fellow Companion still sprawled on the floor, still completely unaware of him. The realization that he had stopped himself mid-transformation washed over him as did the weight of feelings brought back by those memories. He thought of shoving them away, burying them deeper than where he'd found them but the thought of doing so exhausted him. And what was more, they had kept him from becoming a monster. He wanted to hold on to them, for just a little while.

Brenovere made a noise of approval, "Interesting. Our master may find you worth studying beast."

Cairne laughed, "At least for a little while."

With that the leader gracefully strode from the room and Cairne waved off copper-hair, keeping wood elf as backup as he took a seat along the far wall and opened a book.

Vilkas breathed in once deeply before walking over to Everlee. Slowly he sank to his knees beside her. Watching her he knew that she ran the risk of dying in her sleep-like state now more than ever. In the event that soft thudding of her heart gave out, he wanted to be there, awake and ready to make sure it began again.

He looked for something to prop her head upon but knew that he wouldn't find anything. Gently he lifted her up and put her head upon his lap as he kept sentinel above her.


	35. Together

There were thirty four of them other than Brenovere. After the thirteenth one I was glad for the gag because if it had been removed I know I would have begged for them to end the pain by any means necessary. Around the twenty-fifth everything became a giant haze and I passed out before I ever saw the last of my captors get his fill.

I awoke, my arms unbound and my head propped up on a something. I blinked several times but couldn't see anything and I struggled against my aching body to move but was held down.

"Lay still shield-sister," said a gentle voice.

"Farkas?" I asked, surprised and then afraid that they had caught him too.

"No."

"Vilkas. Are you ok?" I said, blinking and trying to get oriented to the world which was slowly coming into focus.

The man laughed darkly. "I'm not the one they tortured."

I blinked, now able to see a vague outline of his face above mine. "I don't think they considered it torture. Just...food."

"Life drain," Vilkas said grimly. "I figured as much when you...when they brought you back."

I could finally see Vilkas's face and realized my head on been in his lap. I began to sit up. Taking as deep a breath as I could manage, I propped myself up against the bars of the cell we apparently shared. His hands had been untied as had mine. Along his arms were deep red marks in his skin where the silver had caused it to break open and bleed. I examined his calf where the bandage had been completely bloodied. I gently reached for the arm closest to me.

"What are you doing?" Vilkas asked, sounding mildly alarmed, though he didn't pull away.

"Relax, I'm not going to amputate," I said.

I turned his arm with my one hand and cast a healing spell with the other. It wasn't strong but enough to cause the indented red lashes to smooth and level out, becoming little pink lines. I reached for his other arm when he abruptly pulled away.

"Stop, you should use that healing on yourself," he said.

"I have no wounds my magic can heal," I said, honestly. "Please, while I have the energy."

I wasn't sure what our treatment would be for the next week. Whether they'd feed us, how much, or whether they'd continued to use me as a meal ticket.

Vilkas shifted uncomfortably for a moment before reluctantly handing me his other arm.

After I healed that I worked on his leg, which was considerably worse than the chain marks. Still, I was fairly sure I had eradicated any infection and sealed the wound. I could only preform the minimum muscle repair but I hoped that at least some of the pain had been lifted. When I finished I leaned back heavily against the bars.

"So...any plans on how to get out of here, fearless leader?" I asked.

Vilkas snorted, "If you're expecting me to turn into a giant wolf and slaughter our way out you'd be sorely mistaken. I'd just end up killing you. And I've been to these caves before, a long time ago, getting out from here is no short sprint."

"I don't think I mentioned anything about wolfy transformations," I said, surprised he'd bring it up in jest.

"Well you did mistake me for my brother," Vilkas said.

"I was blind and mostly unconscious. Besides, when was the last time you were nice to me?"

Vilkas responded by becoming gloomy-looking as he began brooding. I sighed, I could never tell what would set him off.

Just then Cairne appeared at the cage, giving me his flawed smile.

"I think it's time for dinner. Are you coming?" Cairne asked, jingling the keys in his fingers much too far out of reach for Vilkas and I to snatch.

Vilkas stood and went to the cage door. "Stay away."

"I'm not here for you dog. And by all means, feel free to stay put," Cairne said. He began to walk away but I stood and pushed past Vilkas.

"No wait! I'm ready," I said.

"What?" Vilkas asked, outraged.

I refused to look at Vilkas.

Cairne turned and smiled. "That's what I thought. Couldn't get enough of good old Cairne, could you?"

Vilkas grabbed my arm and made me look at him. "What are you doing?"

"I - "

"She wants to be one of us, don't you?"

"I -"

"Everlee," Vilkas barked. "What's going on?"

Vilkas grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn and face him. I was caught, not knowing what to say under Vilkas's tense gaze. I knew that his life was in my hands, and that refusing to go with Cairne, as horrible as being fed from was going to be, would like spell Vilkas's death if he saw no way to escape. However, I knew that I wasn't allowed to tell him why and that he wouldn't let me go if I indicated that it wasn't something I wanted.

"It's nothing, I just - he's right, not about being one of them but it wasn't so bad last night and -" I began, fearing my nerves would give me away.

"They almost killed you. You enjoy that?"

"Just back up pup, away from the bars. I've got an archer trained on you both so if you try anything funny you'll both be dead before you can so much as shed at me," Cairne said, now close to the cage.

Vilkas shook his head and backed away slowly. Written across his face was a disgust and betrayal which made my stomach twist.

Days went by in tortured silence. Twice a day I would leave and Vilkas had gone from glaring at me each time to avoiding looking at me. The pain was impossible to get used to and my old wounds ached constantly now, never properly healed. It reminded me that I should continue to check Vilkas's leg but I knew he'd rip me to shreds before letting me anywhere near him.

I spent more and more of my time sleeping, curled up on the dirty cave floor. Vilkas did his best to ignore me which wasn't hard to do unless you believed what my cousin said about me snoring.

Everything changed though when I awoke from sleep several days into our stay. I was too tired and in too much pain to move or even force my eyes open. From the sound of Vilkas's heavy breathing he too had fallen asleep on the opposite side of our cage. Not far off I could hear the quiet words of Cairne and one of the men I had come to know as Darth.

"He stinks. I can't believe Benovere keeps him. We were supposed to gut any beasts we encountered," Darth complained.

"Don't worry about him. He won't be a problem much longer," Cairne replied.

"Why's that?"

"We kept him to keep that one tame but we've got her pretty well broken in. Tomorrow when Benovere takes her to feed, we'll do away with the mutt."

"About time."

I lay there my heart pounding in my chest. I kept as quiet as I could so that they did not know I had overheard them. When they had finally departed for some time, Cairne taking up his regular post, I made a small deal of waking up. I forced myself into the sitting position and looked at Vilkas.

I had been a fool to think they would just keep him forever. Benovere had not mentioned anything about ransoming him off to the Companions or the Silver Hand, not that he would share those plans with me, but he had kept me up to date on his Master's encroaching presence every day.

Vilkas had either not been able to come up with an escape plan or had been spending too much time brooding and Everlee-hating to think on it. He had said, however, that he'd been to these caves before. Perhaps if we could get free we'd stand a chance...he'd stand a chance at getting out. My strength was weakening and his time was limited. It was now or never.

It wasn't long before Cairne came for me. This time, however, he wasn't going to steal my life, he was going to exchange me for it. As of late I had frequently passed out at the end of snack time for our two vampire hosts, and so Cairne was tasked with picking me up and taking me back to the cage. This time, however, I was determined to stay conscious. It was a difficult task but I thought of Vilkas and his impending slaughter later when Benovere was to come and it got me through. I did, however, fake passing out quite well.

Cairne picked me up. Keeping my eyes shut and attempting to tap into my senses as much as the raw pain would allow, I tried to get a feel for the environment around me. It took two halls before I was sure we were alone. I let one of my swinging arms quickly reach up, grab his keys, and press them tightly in my palm so they didn't make a noise. On the next swing I stuck them in the back of my trousers. A few minutes later I found myself hitting the floor hard and the sound of the cage door slamming shut.

A few moments passed and I sat up wearily. I looked over to Vilkas who was pointedly ignoring me and felt my stomach twist up. I was afraid of talking to him, but it had to be done, and I didn't have any time to be a coward about it. He was standing, facing away from me. I slowly got to my feet and made my way over to him.

"They're going to kill you today," I said, very quietly.

Cairne had moved to his usual spot, reading at the far corner of the room, and I could only hope that he couldn't eavesdrop or that he wasn't bothering. Dead silence got boring and familiar after awhile and I hoped that he'd be so used to it he wouldn't be paying attention.

"I have the key. You said you've been here before. Could you get out?"

Vilkas didn't turn to me, whether to avoid looking at me or because he didn't want to alert our guard I wasn't sure.

"If it's that or die, perhaps. Are you staying here?"

"I would slow you down."

"Is that the only reason?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"It doesn't matter, Vilkas, they're going to kill you. Can't you just take the key and leave?" I asked, getting irritated. The longer we stood there discussing it, the more likely Cairne would be tipped off.

Vilkas turned to me abruptly. "It matters," he said. He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

"No," I choked. The idea of being stuck here and used as vampire food for one more day, the thought of then being killed or turned into one of those monsters was enough to make me feel like I was drowning. But there was no way I could keep up with him as weak as I'd grown over the last few days between my old unhealed wounds and the frequent life-draining. "I want out. But there's no time. I'm too weak and I'd slow you down, get you killed."

"We're getting out of this," Vilkas said. "Together."

"Vilkas -"

"There's no time to argue."

Vilkas took the key from my hand, quickly opened the lock and opened the door, which promptly squeaked and gave away our exit. Cairne's eyes opened wide but it before turning to flee, almost too fast for my eyes to follow. Vilkas's glare turned to our other guard, a wood elf, who attempted to draw his bow but it was too late as Vilkas, surprisingly agile for being in a cage for so long, barreled into him. I caught up and grabbed the man's sword from his sheath as Vilkas briefly wrestled him before snapping the man's neck. When he arose I handed him the sword, turning the dead elf over to get his bow and quiver and a dagger he had strapped to his thigh.

Putting the bow under my left arm and the dagger in my pocket, I swayed and Vilkas grabbed my hand, pulling me along after him. It quickly became obvious to me that we were not heading toward the direction I had come to associate with the beginning of the cave. We were traveling deeper into less-used areas. Cobwebs were everywhere and there were fewer and fewer torches on the wall. Finally it got to the point where I had to use magic to light a path. The energy that took made me even dizzier and Vilkas frequently had to stop to steady me. The bright side was that we hadn't encountered any vampires on this route.

"Where are we going?" I panted.

"There's another exit to these caves, or there used to be."

"That sounds promising."

"I don't think either of us are in a condition to fight off a horde of vampires."

"What are you talking about?" I joked out of breath. "I could take on an army. I'm in the peak of my physical condition. I have no idea how you'd keep up with me."

Vilkas said nothing at my joke attempt and I wearily followed after him on our humorless journey through the dark.

"We're getting close," Vilkas informed me.

"Where do you think you're going, girl? Our master is almost here," Benovere's voice taunted. At first I thought it was in my head but then Vilkas responded.

"Sorry to disappoint," Vilkas said.

"Hey that's my line," I said.

At that moment the vampire in question appeared in front of us. The dunmer, for once, did not appear to be composed, his eyebrows pinched together in a look of pure rage. Vilkas threw his arm out and forced me behind him. Normally I would have been irritated at the gesture, but I knew it was because of my weaken state and his promise to see us both out. Still, fear filled me as I knew that our captor cared nothing for my Companion's life.

"You think I'd have a problem going through you to get to her, wolf?" he asked.

Vilkas snarled and charged the vampire, I took the dagger and approached cautiously. Vilkas attacked expertly with his sword as I made jabs in between his thrusts. At first it appeared as if we were going to tip the scales quickly and kill our foe but then a blast of magical energy threw us back.

That same energy, however, was too unbridled. The floor and ceiling shook as rocks flew loose. It was hard to see but it looked like Benovere was getting buried in rubble before it became impossible to see through the debris. That same rubble that seemed to have squashed him, however, had trapped us in a small space in the tunnel, unable to move forward or back, though in an unbelievable turn of luck (good or bad depending on how you look at it) we had survived.

"Well, at least we're alive," I said helpfully.

Vilkas said grimly, "For now."


	36. Through the Darkness

Vilkas cursed under his breath. We had been picking at the rocks that confined us, but in the limited space it was almost impossible to fix our situation. Some were simply too large to be moved and it was difficult to tell which rocks would, when removed, cause the rest to come tumbling down on us, crushing us in the dark. I attempted to provide light with magic but I was weak and sustaining the spell for any length of time was proving beyond my magical ability. I had given up on helping move the rubble at his request, but the pain resonating from my old wounds and the effort to keep up the light had me panting.

Vilkas turned to me and I could see the frustration in his eyes. I wanted to tell him I was doing all I could, that if I had any significant amount of that magical skill he had long ago accused me of that I would have gotten us out if that last burst of energy to do so killed me. But I couldn't. We were trapped in here because of me, because I had failed the Companions by bringing down the Vampires' wrath upon us. I didn't have the energy to say it but that was the truth. He turned back to the earth surrounding us and continued his task.

Dark lights flashed in my eyes as the world spun and my magic sputtered out again. Desperately I tried to conjure it again but when I did my old wounds seemed to burst with pain, shooting through my chest to my skull where it exploded.

When I began to regain consciousness again I found myself propped up, my back leaning against Vilkas's chest.

“Come on,” he was saying gently, almost whispering. At first I mistook it for prayer. “Wake up. Shield-sister, you can't die here. You have to wake up.”

“I'm not quite dead yet,” I managed, coughing, as I opened my eyes.

I attempted to sit up, but my body felt as if it weighed as much as the debris around us and my weakened muscles weren't up to the task of lifting. Vilkas felt me attempting to get up and his arms tightened, one arm around my waist, and the other over my collarbone. The embrace felt warm and I realized how cold I felt.

“Don't move,” he said. “You're unwell.”

“Is it that obvious?” I joked weakly.

“It's not just the life-drain,” Vilkas said, not making it a question.

“No. The wounds you tended to were reopened when I was helping my friend,” I said, answering anyway. “Some new woulds were re-healed but others didn't get tended to. I've used some poultices but they've never fully healed.”

I could feel the muscles in Vilkas's arms tense again. “Why wouldn't you get them looked at properly before we left?”

“You're the one who said I must be healed enough to go vampire hunting,” I protested.

“You didn't tell me you were injured again!” he practically yelled.

I shuddered from cold but set my jaw stubbornly to avoid it chattering as we sat in silence. I wanted to pull away from Vilkas but my body was shaking, freezing, the only warmth I felt seemed to come from Vilkas's chest.

“You're cold?” Vilkas finally asked.

“W-w-what g-gave that away?” I stuttered out.

“It isn't cold in here,” he said, ignoring me. “You're also sweating.”

I frowned, slowly forcing my arm to reach up and touch by brow, and sure enough, it came back wet. My arm fell heavily on my chest, my muscles tired. I sighed.

“I'll be fine,” I said.

I doubted he believed me (I didn't) but he didn't say anything. In the quiet that followed I almost fell asleep but Vilkas shook me gently and I groaned, reopening my eyes.

“I'm still not dead,” I joked. “Just tired.”

“Don't say that.”

More silence. A new flash of pain had me gasping for air. 

“Everlee -”

“I'm fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

I blinked as the wave of pain started to fade into the same dull feeling it had been before.

“Why are you sorry? This isn't your fault,” I said.

“I saw that you seemed unwell and I did not see to it that you were seen by a healer,” he said.

I laughed. “We both know you were mad at how 'difficult' I was being. I should have told you early on that I needed help.”

“That is true. You were being careless. You should have told me.”

“You knew but you didn't say anything,” I reminded him. “You were being just as stubborn as me.” 

“That doesn't matter, you should learn to trust me,” he said. “If I had known the extent...”

The regret in his voice saddened me, taking the sting out of the anger I had felt building up. I wasn't sure what it was about Vilkas that always caused me to get so defensive.

“I do trust you,” I said. “You're my shield-brother, even if you aren't fond of me I know you wouldn't have let me suffer or risk either of us if you had known how injured I was.”

“Then why didn't you speak up?” Vilkas asked, angry once again.

“I just...I don't like...” I began, frustrated and trying to explain it. “I don't like...disappointing you. And it seems I do that a lot. I still should have said something.”

“What makes you think that I am disappointed in you?”

“The fact that you clearly think my competence is that of a five year old?” I suggested. “Ever since the first time we met you've made it pretty clear what you think of my skill.”

“I told you that I would not have allowed you to join the Companions or come on this quest if I thought -”

“I was completely incompetent. Yes, you mentioned that, recently. But just because you don't think I'm hopeless doesn't mean you think I am capable,” I said. “Look, just forget it. I am sure that it is just me being the sensitive milk-drinker you think I am.”

Vilkas didn't say anything which felt like him agreeing with me.  _ Figures. _ The pain increasingly got worse and I had to bite down hard to avoid making a sound when it would flare up. I didn't want to give him any more cause to to think I wasn't strong enough.

“I am still the reason we were captured. I failed you,” he said.

I bit down hard, currently fighting a wave of sharp pain. When it had passed, I said, “That's not true.”

Vilkas laughed darkly. “Isn't it?”

“No. If I hadn't been Marked, if I had been fast enough with Farkas, this never would have -”

“Yes it would. This clearly goes beyond being marked. This is revenge, and whether he had marked you or not, they would still have come for you, even had it been Farkas who had killed him. They probably intend to turn you, to take one of our people for the one we had taken from them. My brother can't be turned, you were the only one with him. You being Marked is irrelevant to this,” Vilkas said.

“Skjor -”

“Skjor was wrong.”

I sighed. Somehow hearing him say that seemed to ease a huge weight that had been bearing down on me. It didn't change the fact that the Companions had made new enemies, that Vilkas and I had been captured, that we were likely to die down here. But somehow, knowing it wasn't my fault made the whole ordeal easier to bear.

But it didn't make the guilt go away completely. The vampire clan had only wanted me, and Vilkas was now going to die as well. 

“You didn't need to come with me,” I said. 

Vilkas stiffened, “What is that supposed to mean? I told you, I was the one who scouted out their positions, it made the most sense that I -”

“Not that,” I said. “You knew how many there were. If you hadn't come with me, you wouldn't be here, in this situation. That's my fault.”

“So you would have come alone? You cannot possibly think that you could have wiped them out by yourself,” he said, and then he seemed to realize what that meant. “You would have turned yourself in? Are you mad? You said you did not want to become one of them, have you changed your mind?”

“No,” I said. “And I wouldn't have just handed myself over.”

“Facing them alone would have been suicide.”

“Then at least I would have gone down alone!” I said. “If they had killed me in the attempt they still would have taken one of your members, and if they made me a vampire at least the rest of the Companions would have been safe. You didn't have to die for me. You're going to die and that's completely my fault. Do you understand that?”

Vilkas moved me in his arms so that I was laying across his lap now, cradled so he could see my face.    
In the dark I couldn't tell what expression he had and I wondered how well his supernatural eyes could truly see me in this light. After a moment he simply pulled me close once more, my left ear now pressed against his chest.

“You are my shield-sister. You are my family. We are Companions and we stick together,” he said, firmly.

_ Family. _

“Vilkas -” I began.

“You will not be alone.”

I closed my eyes, the pain beginning to crowd out my other senses. It was getting hard to feel my legs and I was scared but I didn't want him to know that. Instead I focused on the heat of his chest, the sound of his heart beating in my left ear. 

_ You will not be alone. _


	37. Not as it Seemed

Vilkas shut his eyes. She felt cold in his arms. Vilkas took a deep, steadying breath. He had failed her, his newest shield-sister. If he managed to get out of the caves alive and she was – she wasn't with him, what could he say to Farkas? To any of them? He should have retreated to Whiterun to regroup with the others, he had known it was dangerous to camp and wait but he hadn't wanted to risk losing the vamires' tail. He had wanted them eliminated as quickly as possible so that she – the Companions – would be safe from them.

Vilkas opened his eyes to see that Everlee had once again closed hers. Her breathing was shallow and he shook her to rouse her once more but this time she didn't respond. He shook her a little harder. Still nothing.

“You can't do this,” he told her, disliking the fear he heard in his voice. “Stay. Wake up.” She still didn't move. “Why don't you ever listen?”

It was then that he heard loud noise coming from the direction they had fled the vampire leader. At first he assumed it was the the rest of his minions come to pry them from the rubble and he didn't care. He was desperate to get her out. If they could free them, if they could save her, he didn't care what came next. 

But the more he heard the more he seemed to realize that the noise he heard was not that of someone coming forth to dig them out. It was the sound of warning shouts, of metal meeting metal and blasts of lightning. The vampires were under attack which meant one thing.

“Farkas!” Vilkas shouted to his brother, hoping someone would hear him.

He wasn't sure how long it would be before they had completely eradicated the vampires and then searched enough to find them down this tunnel and he knew Everlee didn't have the time to wait patiently. The cry for help had barely caused her to stir, a slight moan of pain coming from her lips which was still more welcoming than the stillness that had greeted him moments before.

“Farkas!” he yelled again. “Aela! Kodlak! Somebody!  _ Farkas!” _

“I'm here brother!” he heard a responding shout. “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“I am fine. But she needs help. Now.”

“I will go find someone to help! Hold on!”

Vilkas took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Everlee's eyes fluttered open slightly.

“What's going on?” she wheezed, a quiet whisper.

“Help is coming. You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine,” Vilkas assured her, making sure to keep his voice steady.

She smiled slightly. “Glad I didn't...kill you after all...like you always thought.”

Vilkas said nothing, clamping his jaw tight as her eyes began to droop.

“No, stay awake, Everlee,” he said.

“I like it when you say my name,” she said, clearly drifting away from consciousness. “Especially when...you're not...angry.”

“Stay awake then, Everlee, stay awake,” he said.

But her eyes shut as he began rocking her back and forth, quickly. “Stay awake, Everlee, stay awake. Everlee?”

The breton made quiet noise, indicating she wasn't completely out yet so he continued to rock her quickly, repeating her name again and again as he heard his brother and whoever he had brought with him began to dig them out. The noise she made to indicate she was still hearing him stopped and he felt a stab of panic as the first rock fell and he could see his twin lifting the heaviest rocks away from them as Aela instructed him and Njada as to which pieces to remove in what order.

When they were finally free, Vilkas got to his feet but his legs were unsteady underneath him. He began to descend from the rockfall, not bothering with thanks or asking whether or not the vampires had been taken care of as he began to exit the caves.

Farkas and Aela quickly caught up to him, showing how weak he had become in the last several weeks while caged. He needed to move faster, he needed to get his shield-sister to a healer. Behind him he heard Njada run off in a different direction.

“Brother, what happened?” Farkas asked, concern clear in his voice.

“I have potions if she -”

“It won't work. They are old injuries, she has to see a healer,” Vilkas said, determinedly.

Vilkas stumbled over nothing, his right leg shooting pain which he ignored, his injury having reopened during the cave collapse

“You're bleeding,” Aela noted. “You should -”

“Later,” he said.

“Vilkas!” Aela said, as if reprimanding a child.

“Later.”

“Brother, you don't look -”

“I'm fine,” he snapped. 

“You aren't going fast enough to save her,” Aela said. Vilkas stopped abruptly to glare at her. Before he could speak, she continued. “Let Farkas take her. He can move faster and his horse is just outside the cave entrance. If you want her to live.”

Vilkas's lip twitched slightly. Then he looked down at her before turning to his brother. He would not allow his pride to kill her now. Aela was right, even though it was his fault for their capture and thus his duty to see her to safety, he wasn't in a fit position to do so. Farkas leaned down, taking the Breton in his arms like he had on the day they met.

“I'm glad you're safe, brother,” Farkas said earnestly before bounding ahead of them and out of sight.

“Most the Vampire were dead when Farkas found us,” Aela informed him.

Vilkas nodded as they began walking through the tunnels, collecting bodies to bring to the central chamber. The older vampires didn't dust so easily, they would need to be burned to be on the safe side. The younger ones were nothing but piles of ashes.

“Are you truly alright?” Aela asked.

Vilkas grunted, “I will see a healer when we are through here.”

“What happened?” she asked him.

“I failed. I should have returned to Whiterun to meet with the rest of you, but I did not want to risk losing them. I was on watch when they cornered us with Illusion spells. Still, she would have gotten away if I hadn't been shot,” he explained.

Aela didn't speak for a moment. When she next asked a question, her voice was gentle as he had not heard it in years, “And while you were here?”

Vilkas dumped a body on top of the pile before meeting her eyes. “I am fine, sister. They did not touch me.”

She sighed. “That is a relief,” Aela admitted. “And I shall not complain about that good fortune. But then the question is: why?”

Truthfully Vilkas hadn't considered his good circumstances. The bad blood between werewolves and vampires was nothing new. It was an age old feud, especially in Skyrim. The only time either group kept the other alive was for information, bait, or torture. It seemed, however, that they had wanted none of that from him given how completely unprepared they had been to handle the attack.

“I...do not know,” he answered. “They left me in the cage. Everlee claimed they had planned on killing me before we escaped.”

He could still hear her voice begging him to leave her and run, telling him she would be a burden to him. Not because she wanted to stay, but because she was sure he would fail with her at his side. Vilkas had pressed her on this. Even if she had enjoyed the time she spent with the bloodsuckers and had changed her mind in regards to becoming one of them, he had considered dragging her out of there against her will. 

When he had discovered the reason behind her reluctance and that she hadn't wanted to stay, he had determined not to leave her behind. As she lay gravely injured in his arms she had still insisted she didn't want to become a vampire. 

But that went against logic. If she didn't want to be a vampire, if she didn't like them feeding from her, then she had lied to him. Which meant...

Which meant she had been protecting him, again. Just as she had done instinctively the day they met when she had thrown herself at him to push him out of the way of a giant. At the time he had seen that as a rash, stupid decision. She had injured herself and could have gotten herself killed, either from the giant or his sword. He'd been irritated. It had been Kodlak that had pointed out that it was likely his pride hurting that made him judge her so. He had failed and she had saved his life, and that admittedly had made him uncomfortable.

And he had failed again, and again she had saved his life. They had used him as bait, to keep Everlee complacent. The moment she found out they had planned to kill him she had devised a method to escape. She had somehow swiped the key from the vampire's belt despite being ill and the creature's heightened sense of awareness. He still remembered how irritated Njada had been the night she returned to Jorrvaskr, in heavy armor, and had sneaked into bed completely unnoticed by any of them.

So despite her claiming that she was the obstacle to his escape it appeared that perhaps it had been the other way around all along. And she could be dead right now.

Vilkas shut his eyes, his fists tightening.

“Vilkas?” Aela asked.

“It's me,” he said. “It's my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They kept me as bait to keep her here,” Vilkas said.

“There were over thirty of them. They did not need to keep you for that purpose,” she assured him.

“Didn't they?” Vilkas asked. “Then tell me why else they would keep me alive and unharmed for so long.”

“Perhaps they intended to ransom you,” she said.

“And lead you to their doorstep? That has not turned out well for them.”

“Then as an experiment?” she began. “The leader was on his way here. If it hadn't been for your absence, we would have waited longer to ambush him.”

“I...no. They were going to kill me, that's why she got the key. If they had planned on experimenting on me, then they would have done so before that. No, they thought she was beaten down from the life-drain and thought they had no further use for me, that she would remain whether I was here or not.”

“It still seems odd. Do you think she truly could have escaped if not for you?” Aela asked him. “That they could have known that?”

“They had dark magic. It is possible they could have seen something like that in her. She got the key from one of their leaders the day she knew she needed it. She sneaked into Jorvaskr in heavy armor. Perhaps...perhaps there is more to her than meets the eye,” Vilkas said.

Aela sighed. “It doesn't matter. If the situation had been reversed, you would have done the same.”

“If I hadn't been here -”

“She would be dead or a vampire. We saw the report on the first camp,” she reminded him. “You are too hard on yourself.”

“Now you sound like Farkas,” Vilkas said, irritated.

“Well the peanut-brain isn't wrong all the time,” she said. Before Vilkas could defend his twin, Aela was ahead of him, “You know it was a joke. Do not feel so personally responsible for everything.”

Vilkas rolled his eyes which reminded him of Everlee. He needed to see if she had made it back to Whiterun, to see if she would be alright.

“Let's finish up here,” he said. “These leeches are starting to stink.”


	38. A Strong Plan

Farkas had thought she was dead when he first saw her, pale and thin in Vilkas's arms. He hadn't really been able to comprehend it, been able to feel it, but his mind had told him  _ she's dead. _ The dark look in his brother's eyes as he marched out of the rubble had seemed to confirm it.  _ I'm too late, she's dead. _

Still he hadn't been able to feel anything. Shock, that's what he'd heard it called by Kodlak. The Companions saw it on occasion, when they weren't called in time to save everyone. He'd seen it when they had to inform a loved one that their contract hadn't been able to be fulfilled and their friend or family member was dead or gone. 

But he had never lost anyone like this, not really. Well, he knew people who had died when he was younger, still under Jergen's care but he hadn't known that at the time. Vilkas had told them they'd gone away, or retired. Farkas had written them for years, unaware that the responses he had received had been from Vilkas until Aela had gotten frustrated and told him the truth. He'd been sad, but he had understood it was just Vilkas trying to protect him.

Trying to wrap his mind around someone he knew dying didn't seem possible. This was Everlee, his shield-sister, the first person he had realized he had feelings for. He hadn't known her long enough for her to die, he hadn't considered it a possibility.

Even as he held her limp form in his arms it didn't seem real. He frowned as he untied his horse and, as gently as he could, climbed onto its back, still cradling the Breton in his arms.

“You're going to be alright,” he told her. “We're here now, sister.”

She didn't make a noise as they began galloping toward Whiterun, the sun high in the sky and warming the fall air. It was a nice, sunny day. A day he and Ria might go out and visit the orchard, or he would hunt with Aela, or spar outside with his brother and Kodlak. Today wasn't a day when a Companion died, still new to her title. 

Still, he couldn't get Vilkas's face out of his mind. He had never seen his brother so hollow looking, so determined and cold. It had been the opposite of what his voice had sounded like when he'd called them. Farkas had been two hall-turns away when he'd heard his brother's cries and it had shot through him, his heart racing in fear. He had never heard Vilkas sound afraid, sound desperate. His brother had always had things under his control. Vilkas didn't sound like Vilkas then. Farkas had disengaged the vampire he had been battling to spring toward the sound of his twin's voice in the dark.

But Vilkas wasn't right about everything. He was wrong about Everlee before. He hadn't believed she'd be strong enough, capable enough to join the Companions when they had first met. He had told Farkas that she would only cause him trouble, that she wasn't worth it. But he had been wrong about those things, and he was wrong about her dying.

She could pull through. Farkas had faith in her. And she had faith in him. She was going to make it to a healer and she would come out of this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Farkas was sitting outside the door to his room when his brother arrived back at Jorrvaskr. 

“Where is she?” he demanded. “Is she...”

“She's going to be fine,” Farkas said, firmly.

Vilkas looked at his twin uncertainly. “What did they say?”

“Nothing.”

“Then how do you know?” Vilkas asked, his frustration building.

“I just do,” his brother replied.

Vilkas growled in irritation as Skjor, Aela and Kodlak came to stand behind him. Farkas rose to his feet when he saw the Harbinger and nodded in greeting. He wanted to smile, but for once he couldn't seem to manage it.

“Farkas, is Shield-Sister Everlee in your room?” Kodlak asked.

“Yes,” Farkas said. “She is with a few healers. They did not want me to disturb them.”

“Then come, let us discuss what has occurred in my room,” Kodlak said. “We must make plans regarding the vampires' clan leader.”

Farkas nodded as the the group, all but Vilkas, turned from his door. Vilkas remained staring at the at the entrance to his room. His twin looked him over, his leg had been seen by a healer, a white new bandage wrapped around it, the familiar work of the healers in the temple. Other than that his brother seemed to bear no outward injuries. He looked smaller than normal outside his armor and Farkas tried to recall the last time he'd seen his brother without it. 

Finally Farkas looked at his brother's face. It was carefully stoic, the blank dead look no longer in his eyes. 

“She will be fine,” Farkas said.

“You don't know that,” he said. It looked as if he were going to say something else but settled for repeating, “You don't know that.”

“It's not your fault.”

Vilkas's face jerked away from the door to look up at his brother. Despite Vilkas's above-average height, Farkas himself stood a good head taller than him.

“Of course it isn't,” he said. “I never said -”

“You don't have to. You're my brother.”

Vilkas frowned and then sighed. “It was my fault. I was on watch. We shouldn't have even been there and she was only captured because of me. It  _ is _ my fault.”

“No it isn't,” Farkas said.

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“It -”

“Is not your fault.”

Vilkas sighed loudly, exasperated. “You should be angry at me. Even if she doesn't die, I almost got her killed, the person you supposedly...”

“Have feelings for?”

“Yes, that,” Vilkas said, sounding disturbed.

“You're my brother. I know you. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I'm not perfect. None of us are, no one is,” he snapped. “How can you be so...you've seen what we do. You know that it isn't as simple as this. I made mistakes and she could die for it.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” Farkas reiterated.

“You say that now? When  _ my  _ mistakes could mean we lose a shield-sister? She could die because of me.”

“No. It would have been because of the Vampires,” he said. “They chose to hurt the both of you, to attack us. It isn't your fault.”

Vilkas said nothing, looking back at the door to Farkas's room. “I wish I could believe that.”

“I do. If Everlee were to talk to you, she wouldn't blame you either,” he said.

“You can't know that.”

“You two! What part of 'meet in Kodlak's room' didn't you understand?” Aela called from the end of the hall.

Farkas waited for his brother to leave the door before following him down the hall into Kodlak's room as Aela shut the door behind them.

Kodlak wasted no time in getting down to business. “Our city is in danger and that is partly our fault and completely our responsibility. We have dealt with the Silver Hand before and we knew that they had pacts with a couple of Vampire clans who provided them with members to strengthen their numbers. This clan calls itself Vrognar. Their leader is their creator, Auros, a four hundred and fourteen year old Breton male.”

“Seems he's taking the death of his great-grand something as something of a personal vendetta,” Skjor said. “And so now's a good time to Dust the monster while he's out of hiding.”

“Vilkas, can you tell us anything you've learned?” Kodlak asked. “How were you captured?”

Vilkas told them all of the illusion spell, his injury, and his incarceration. He gave them a rundown of what happened and why he believed they had not harmed him and their escape attempt. He also told them that neither of the two leaders of this group had been found among the bodies they had burned. Cairne and Brenovere had managed to flee.

When he was done, Skjor said. “We have to strike. We must take out the rest of them before they think to attack us or the city again. They murdered one of our own -”

“She isn't dead,” Farkas said.

“Yet,” Skjor said. “They  _ tried  _ to murder one of our own and would have claimed her as their own given the chance. We cannot let this go unpunished. We must seek justice.”

“Skjor's right. We cannot let them live, not when we have them so close,” Aela said. “Their numbers are small now. There were only a dozen traveling with the leader so they can't have more than a twenty with those who escaped the attack.”

“They are a threat,” Kodlak agreed. “And we must act quickly. However, the battle was not without its cost. In addition to Everlee, Athis and Ria have both sustained injuries that may take weeks to heal, even with magic. Torvar also suffers from minor injuries that would put him out of duty for the next several days. These vampires will be the oldest and most experienced and they will be expecting us. We must consider our options.”

The group was silent for a moment. “We could petition the city for aid,” Vilkas said. “The vampires are ravaging their hold as well. Aela informs me that many of its citizens have gone missing due to the group.”

“The city is spread too thin,” Aela said. “Many troops have been placed in Riverwood and other villages due to the dragon attacks. Now that Everlee is unable to aid them, they will be reluctant to part with their men since they have no way to assure the hold's safety.”

“And the Stormcloaks are Legion are harassing the Jaarl at his borders, demanding he pick a side,” Kodlak agreed. “Balgruuf is likely spread too thin to spare any aid.”

“Mercenaries then?” Aela asked.

“Mercenaries,” Vilkas said, disliking the idea. “The last time we worked with those amateurs we almost lost two of ours. The majority of that lot aren't equip to fight a skeever let alone the core of a centuries-old vampire clan. Finding the high quality sort who might be able to handle it would take too much time.”

“Vilkas is correct. The only mercenary company near enough that we could reach them in time would not be able to provide men who would do more than get in the way of more experienced fighters. They would be a liability,” Kodlak agreed.

“Then what?” Aela asked, frustrated. “If numbers will not come from either the city or the mercenaries, then who else could be reached in time to fight the menace?”

“Who says we need extra numbers?” Skjor said. 

The entire room got quiet as all attention turned to the grizzled veteran.

“What do you mean, Skjor?” Farkas asked.

“I mean that we can handle a couple of leeches ourselves. While we sit here and discuss who we can run to with our problems, with  _ our _ tails tucked between our legs, those vampires are sucking the life out of victims in order to strengthen themselves. But we have strength too, running through our veins, and beating in our hearts,” Skjor said.

“Are you suggesting -” Aela began.

“The Blood. Are we not warriors? Do we not have one of the greatest tools at our disposal to fight them? The Silver Hand hunt us because of what we are, as if it is a weakness to be eradicated, but it is our strength,” he continued.

“Skjor, this is not the way we were meant to be,” Kodlak said.

“So you would let them win out of fear?” Skjor asked. Before shaking his head. “I am sorry. But I see no other way nor do I see why we should shy away from our gift.”

“I am with Skjor,” Aela said. “These vampires must be taken care of and one of us transformed would be enough to deal with several of them at once. It would provide the strength we need.”

“And if we lose control? If some of the vampires' hostages are still alive?” Kodlak questioned.

“They won't be,” Skjor said. “You know that as well as I do and this will prevent more from following them to their deaths.”

“And we have to burn the bodies. There will be no witnesses and no evidence that would lead back to the Companions connection to the the Blood,” Aela said.

Farkas watched Kodlak as he thought through Skjor and Aela's arguments, a frown on his face. Whitemane had raised them ever since Jergen had joined the war when he and Vilkas were but eight. He had known the man for almost as long as he could remember, and had come to see him as a father. Farkas knew why Kodlak did not want to become a wolf, why he fought it. Even though the Circle members had all been Blooded for many years, none could ever keep complete control over their instincts when transformed. 

Farkas hadn't known that until last year. He had known that Vilkas had always seemed to struggle with the Blood though he refused to speak about the reasons behind it. It had been Kodlak who had finally told him the truth, that everyone who had the Blood was in danger of losing control of their actions and even their minds. 

But Farkas had never felt that way. He had never felt an instinct to transform when he was upset, had never had to fight the urge to hunt or kill when transformed. Kodlak had seemed shocked at this, but told him that was not how it was for anyone else, and that one day that might change. The thought of him accidentally becoming a murderer was not one that he was fond of. He'd promised Kodlak to stop his transformations, and he had without difficulty which had encouraged his brother to do the same.

It hadn't been until Everlee that he had taken the form of the wolf again, and for the first time his transformation had been brought on not by choice but by emotion. Though he had maintained his mind and clarity during that time, the fact that he had lost control over his ability to Turn, even that one time, had convinced him that Kodlak was right, that he didn't want to risk becoming a monster. Especially if his shield-brothers or sisters were there too.

So he did not want to use his wolf form to take on the Vampires. He wanted people to be safe, to make sure that his family was safe from the vampires, but he did not want to endanger them to do so. Still, he would trust Kodlak and whatever he chose, Farkas would follow, completely trusting his decision.

“Aela is right,” Vilkas said, shocking everyone there. 

Of all the people who had struggled with the Blood, it seemed that his brother had done so from the moment he was turned.

“What do you mean, Vilkas?” Kodlak asked.

“There is no other way to eradicate the clan without casualties unless we use the Blood,” Vilkas said. “And she is right that one of us would be more than sufficient to take on several of them at once, regardless of their age or experience. We would not all need to Transform.”

“Go on,” Kodlak said.

“We leave Njada here. We go as a group to take out the Vampires. We send in a scout to figure out their number. We then send in one of us for every ten of them. It is risky but if we attack hard, fast, and smart, we should be able to scatter them. Likely the younger ones will flee, straight into the rest of us who will be waiting to take them out,” Vilkas said.

“It could work,” Aela said, approvingly.

“It is a strong plan,” Skjor said.

Kodlak smiled at Vilkas, accepting the compromise. “Very well then. We leave in an hour. Everyone see to any injuries you may have and that your equipment is ready.”


	39. Human or Wolf

Brynjolf had just entered Riften when the local messenger thrust a letter in his hand. He had been out of town for several days, researching the mysterious symbol-person on behalf of Frey. In that regard the trip had been fruitless, providing no new information, but he had made a few good new contacts and turned some coin so it wasn't a total loss. Brynjolf enjoyed the challenge of making the best of a situation and had years of experience doing so. He preferred to leave as little as possible up to luck or chance, wishing to mold his own fate.

Brynjolf had quickly scanned over the letter which was nearly illegible. Constance had done what she could for the children while Grelod had run the place, but there was only so much she could instill upon her charges who were mostly concerned with avoiding another beating and not starving that night. Still, at least Jared had been one of the ones to pick up some of the skills she'd tried to impart which meant he could read and write to an extent.

_ Brynjolf, _

_ I know I don't know you well but Lynn always trusted you and I know you and Everlee are friends. I don't know what to do. Ever has been missing for over a week now. She went out on a mission with Vilkas but something went wrong because on the day they were supposed to come back with the rest of the Companions they didn't. I know something's wrong! Everyone was acting weird and worried but they won't tell me anything! I don't know if they're looking for her or if they have any idea what happened to her. Then last night when I slept they all disappeared and I'm here alone with some of the locals who work at Jorrvaskr. I think she might need your help. Please, _

_ Jared _

Brynjolf had read the letter twice before the message sank in. He wanted to believe that Jared was exaggerating the situation. The Companions were a legendary order and a good part of the reason that they had few contacts in the city and even fewer Thieves willing to do jobs there. It had been part of what he had used to convince Mercer that she was worth keeping as a member and not forcing her to leave her new city to report immediately back to Riften. He had neglected to tell Frey that she was in the Companions, knowing that would not go over well even if Brynjolf himself thought it could prove useful.

And the fact that she had joined them at all was baffling. The thief was normally good at sizing up a person, that's how he had spotted Everlee's gift even before she'd been unwilling to admit it to herself. He had known, too, that she still wasn't comfortable, had preferred her traditional training. But he had never pictured her willingly joining the order of warriors in Skyrim. She hadn't seemed to want to stick around after her encounter with the Dark Brotherhood. If he had to be honest, a small bit of him was insulted how quickly she had made herself comfortable in the city. 

But the point was the Companions had accepted her, not just to try out her skills, but now as a full member. That meant her chosen talents were exceptional. Even with her knack for trouble, between her own abilities and the other members backing her, surely she couldn't...

_ No she definitely could find that sort of trouble. _

And there was the possibility that whatever trouble she had found herself in wasn't something the order was suited to handle. Though he was unsure of what assistance he could provide that her other guild could not, he had walked back to the stables just as the boy had been leading his horse away.

“I'll be needing her again,” Brynjolf said.

The boy, maybe fifteen, jumped, not having heard him. He turned to see Brynjolf's easy smirk and glared as he handed back his horse, Swift, back to him. Brynjolf handed the boy a few extra coins before climbing onto the dark grey horse's back and racing toward Whiterun.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vilkas was adjusting the last piece of his spare armor when his brother entered his room without knocking. Farkas never knocked, had never learned to or seen reason to apparently, though his brother and (even more so) Aela, had chided him time and again for it. He had learned his lesson when it came to the redheaded archer, but Farkas had never got in the habit of paying his brother the same courtesy, always busting in with his large grin and some new tale or bit of news. This time, however, there was no grin as his brother, fully armored, had to duck slightly to get under the door frame.

“The healers still haven't come out,” Farkas said.

Vilkas didn't say anything, just grunted to confirm he had heard him. He could tell his brother seemed a little uneasy about this even if he still held to his steadfast belief that the Breton would somehow survive not only the night but completely recover. Vilkas couldn't...didn't want to think about her right now. She was distracting and he needed to focus. Tonight he wanted one thing: revenge.

Of course everyone else had spoken of saving lives, of justice, of duty in regards to getting rid of the Clan and that held true for Vilkas too. But that wasn't his main concern, and he was well aware of it. The Nord had made mistakes over the years, more than he would ever willingly admit to, but no one had made him feel that...vulnerable, that  _ helpless _ , in years. He had trained for years to prevent that feeling, the feeling of being trapped, of failure. And they had made him feel it twice, in a cage, and then trapped in rock while he held his dying shield-sister in his arms and could do nothing about it.

They would pay for that, for what they did to her, for that uneasy feeling he could not shake off. He was not some boy who could be used as bait, as a hostage. Tonight they would not find him the way they had left him: wounded and unarmed. No, they would pay for that.

“Vilkas? Have you heard anything I said?” his brother asked him.

Vilkas snapped the last bit of his armor into place, now having all of it properly adjusted as he removed a broadsword from the weapon rack closest to the door and left. “We've got work to do, Farkas.”

“Are you going to be alright? Your leg -”

“Is fine. I paid good money to have it healed so do not worry about me,” he said. “Let's go.”

“Vilkas -”

But Vilkas had already left the hall and was on his way up the stairs. Tonight couldn't come fast enough.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been getting darker early in the days leading up to winter so that when the Circle left Whiterun, dusk had been setting in, leaving the now overcast sky to cast the world in a gloomy grey. It had been a long time since the entire Circle had left the gates of Whiterun together. By the time they reached the farmhold they had chosen as their stopping point, there was only a few streaks of light in the sky as Aela ran ahead to scout out the Vampires who had taken residence in a small abandoned ruin.

The rest of them had split up, looking for any survivors left behind. This had been the last place raided. Unlike the previous farmholds, they had left one survivor though it was unlikely they had known that. The small argonian child had left her mother who had worked as a servant in the house and run all the way to Whiterun to inform the Jaarl where he had sent her to the Companions, unable to deal with the vampire threat and aware that the Order was already looking into them. She had arrived just before they had returned, waiting, and her report had been invaluable in giving them the exact location of the remaining clan members.

Part of Vilkas wondered what had happened to the girl after she had spoken with Skjor and Kodlak while he had been seeing a healer. Whiterun had no orphanage and few Argonians who would be more likely to take in the child if need be. He brushed the thought aside, it wasn't his concern, he had a job to do. Still, when they found no survivors, he couldn't help but think of her once more. By now the members of this farmhold were dead, of that he was certain. Skyrim seemed full of orphans these days.

Aela returned quickly as the darkness had completely settled over the land though a large full moon was rising to take its place. The Circle gathered to her as she gave them her report.

“There are nineteen of them. The leader is with them. The ruins on the west are against a cliff. Part of the ruins go underground which is where they keep their leader, guarded. There are two entrances, a tunnel from a nearby cave to the east, and one directly from the ruins themselves facing the west cliff. There are three sentries, two at the ruins, and one at the cave,” Aela said.

“One of us who turns should go to the ruins, the other to the cave entrance,” Kodlak said.

“Whoever takes the ruins will need to take out the sentinels fast. We don't want them to have warning,” Skjor said.

“Whoever goes through the cave entrance will have to move quickly as well,” Aela added. “We don't want one of us in there alone for too long.”

“Then we will have two of us at the ruins and one at the cave entrance for anyone who tries to flee,” Kodlak confirmed. “Now, Aela and Skjor, I assume you are up to the task of transforming?”

“Yes,” Aela agreed.

“Looking forward to it,” Skjor said, nodding.

“Good, then Farkas and I -” their leader continued.

“Kodlak,” Vilkas interrupted. “I would go into the ruins first, if you would have it.”

“You?” Aela asked, surprised at his volunteering.

“You wish to transform?” Skjor asked.

Vilkas looked Skjor directly in the eyes. “Yes.”

Skjor smiled, “I see no problem with this if Aela doesn't disagree. I would enter with him.”

“No, I'm just surprised is all,” Aela said. “But I am willing to stay back.”

“Are you sure about this Vilkas?” Kodlak asked.

It took Vilkas a moment before he could meet his mentor's eyes. When he did he said firmly, “I am.”

“Brother -”

“I am sure, Farkas.”

Farkas stayed quiet but he could tell his brother wished to say more.

“Very well. Vilkas, you will take the cave entrance. I will go with you and kill those you send fleeing out. Skjor, Aela, and Farkas will take the ruins. We will give Vilkas and Skjor twenty minutes. Then Aela will go into assist, and transform if the situation is desperate. Otherwise it is best not to so as to avoid pack mentality. We want this to be quick so we can return to Jorrvaskr to see to our injured members and report to the Jaarl. When there are no more fleeing within, Aela will come inform Farkas and me and we will clear out the ruin and burn the bodies,” Kodlak said.

“What's left of them,” Skjor said in his gravely voice, sounding eager.

Kodlak said nothing to that as the Circle split up to go their separate locations. Vilkas continued on with the his leader in the seemingly peaceful night though he refused to look at him, staring determinedly ahead. He had thought of asking for Aela to come with him instead of the old man or his brother. He knew they disproved of his choice, that the would want to have words with him. Even if Kodlak had agreed to that request, however, Vilkas knew it was best this way. This way he had no choice but to follow through with the plan as there was no one else to take his place. Kodlak had refused the Form in years, and his brother seemed more determined than ever to avoid using it since he had his first experience losing control. If Aela were with him, he could change his mind, ask her to take his place. And he didn't want that.

“Vilkas, you do not need to do this,” Kodlak said gently as they neared the cave.

“It is a good plan and I could not let my brothers and sister down now,” Vilkas said, ignoring what he meant.

“I know that you are angry. I know you want revenge. But revenge mars the soul and you have worked so hard to still the calling in your Blood,” Kodlak said.

“This is who I am,” Vilkas said. “Denying who I am will get me nowhere.”

“It is what you are not who you are. You are not defined by what Jergen -”

“Kodlak, don't,” Vilkas said, his voice lacking the anger it had before. “I need to do this.”

“I could take your place, son, this doesn't have to be your path.”

The man turned to him then, anger and uncertainty in his eyes. “Why would you say that? You have spent years avoiding this, trying to find a cure. You would throw that all away now?”

“If it prevents you from doing this to yourself, then yes.”

Vilkas huffed a laugh half-heartedly. “You are getting soft, old man.”

Kodlak smiled. “Perhaps.”

“If you are right, that this is not who I am, then tonight changes nothing,” Vilkas said. “I am still who I am regardless of the wolf and I do not plan on making this a regular experience.”

“That is not exactly what I am concerned about,” his mentor said but did not elaborate further.

They finished the short walk in silence, standing behind a small embankment before the cave where a Redguard male stood watch. Vilkas quietly stripped down to his underthings, the only clothes he could manage to transform with him and even that had taken years. His bare chest was exposed to the moonlight and autumn air and he was grateful, not for the first time, that the Blood gave him a further resistance to cold.

It had been a long time since he had purposefully called to his other Form and he now found it difficult to do so. He knew that part of it was trepidation. He had avoided Turning for so long that it seemed unnatural to him now. And then of course was the fact that as a wolf there was the barely contained animalistic rage that boiled within. He was always on the verge of losing himself, and though it felt good as a wolf, as a man he reviled losing his control. And there was always the risk that when he lost control he could go too far, lose his mind completely.

And of course none of these thoughts were helping. Vilkas looked up at the moon, the light reflecting off his yellow eyes. He let it wash over him, still low in the sky and partly behind the far off mountain line to the west where, at the top, the Grey Beards sat. He thought of the hunt, of the way his senses, already stronger, became a live-wire. He thought of how easy it would be for him to finally tear out the throats of Cairne and Brenovere. 

He bit back a scream as his body contorted quickly to the form. It was easier to go slow, less painful, but he didn't have the time. He fell to all fours, coming up to Kodlak's elbow. He looked up at the man, his familiar scent comfortable, indicating he was one of the pack, a fellow wolf, even if he'd been trying to get rid of that part of himself for years.

Vilkas let his hunting instincts take over. Crouching low and becoming almost invisible in the night, even with the full moon and the vampire's extra senses. It had no heartbeat, and it's heat was so low it barely registered, but it was still close, still prey. It only took seconds for him to rip its head off. The man didn't even have enough time to scream. Kodlak quickly approached and opened the door and Vilkas was inside. He howled loudly, a feeling building up in his belly that would have made him laugh if he were human. They were not prepared for him, not like this. He could already smell their fear.

Vilkas ran down the cave hall. At first the path was but a dirt floor and maybe two people wide, but as he went further it slowly began to resemble an underground chamber. Soon after his paws hit down on stone he came across the first grouping. He leapt, instantly dispatching an altmer mid-spell with one bite to her neck. He jumped from her body in time to avoid a warhammer to his right side before rounding to him, growling. 

His speed caught the vampire off guard as he bit into his calf, utterly destroying the muscle as the female Orc fell to her knees where he began ripping into her chest with his front claws. He heard three of the vampires begin to flee down the tunnel he had just come from. He chased them down, pouncing on the slowest, a large Imperial who desperately attempted to set him on fire but only caught himself. He screamed as he burned and his fellows fled straight down the tunnel toward Kodlak. Vilkas turned. That took care of five right there, plus the three sentinels above ground for a total of eight. 

If Aela were right that left eleven. Vilkas shot down the hall, taking no time to bask in the blood of his foes. He could smell them, their once faint scent now distinct and clear: Cairne and Brenovere.  _ He _ wanted to be the one to get to them which meant he had to hurry. 

The next group he encountered were more prepared for him. One wood elf fled and he let him race down the tunnel. Three bretons remained, two dark haired males, and a blonde female. He dodged spells from the males as the blonde charged him with her sword and shield. He easily avoided both, taking a chunk out of her thigh as he felt the sting of lightning graze his own leg. While the female failed to heal her thigh (too much of the muscle missing for any real repair), he took down the offender, who was quickly one leg short, before ripping out the neck of the second. With one dead and two disabled, Vilkas raced ahead, leaving them for Skjor or his fellow Companions take care of. 

It was now he realized he was going a little deeper underground, toward the center chamber of the ruins. The first person he encountered, alone, was Cairne, who spent no time firing lightning at him with one hand, wielding a silver sword in his left. 

“You smell the same beast,” Cairne said. “Didn't you get enough when you were in the cage? Did you miss being locked up? Come back to your owners, mongrel?”

Vilkas growled, anger spiking through him, making his vision sharper and red-tinged as the human part of his brain dimmed. Cairne took advantage of this, swiping the blade along Vilkas's right shoulder. Quickly he dodged, but still the shallow cut sizzled from the metal.

“Is she with you? Your human? Or did you take advantage of her dying when you were buried in rubble?” Cairne asked. “She is dead now, isn't she?”

It was too much, Vilkas felt the last part of him leave, the animal completely taking over. His reactions sped even quicker, dodging blow after blow and avoiding all the spells the monster cast. Cairne's mana drained and he reached for a dagger but was too slow, Vilkas attacked, pulling Cairne's hand free from his wrist and dropping it to the ground. In his anger and pain, Cairne stabbed wildly at the black and silver wolf but was unable to properly maneuver to defend himself. Vilkas knocked him to the ground, his sword clattered out of reach. Vilkas's back claws digging deep into Cairne's hips while he growled, lowering his face to the vampire's. The smirk was gone, the anger vanished, all that was left was raw fear.

“Please, don't. I didn't want this. They made me into this. I can't – I couldn't maintain my humanity. I tried – please -” Cairne begged.

The wolf didn't listen, didn't care. His teeth sunk in, ending him quickly. 

“Do you know how hard I worked on him?” a smooth voice said. “Years spent carving him into the weapon I wanted. Of course, he was never what I wanted. I should probably thank you really.” 

Vilkas turned, growling at the familiar dunmer: Brenonvere. His long ebony hair was in a high bun though one lock fell down on his forehead. His black eyes showed no sign of fear, in fact, they almost appeared bored, as if his clan's destruction were of no interest to him. He then looked down, brushing off a bit of dust from his velvet blue robe. 

The black and silver wolf growled, speeding toward Brenovere. Almost lazily he turned his gaze back to Vilkas, somehow managing to raise his arm in time to stop him in his tracks. Against his will Vilkas stopped, struggling against a mental barrier.

“But you, you come in here and you destroy our underlings, your teeth gnawing and gnashing. It took three centuries to convince Auro to start this clan together,” Brenovere said. “What we have done over the course of the last century you have destroyed in minutes. Do you not feel ashamed?”

Vilkas growled, low in his throat, the wolf baring its teeth even as inside a part of the animal began to panic against the spell.

“Did you really think it would be this easy, child of the moon? You think that if you get rid of your humanity and embrace that mongrel within that you could really kill me? Kill my master?” Brenovere continued. 

The dunmer approached, lowering himself to eye level with Vilkas, his face so close the wolf could smell the overly sweet scent of the leech, like the smell of spoiled fruit. His colorless eyes looked him over before tilting his head. Slowly he stood back up.

“I've spent years losing my humanity, child,” he said. Then with a double-resonating voice, “ _ You are but a weak human _ .”

The dark magic that had always emanated from the elf took physical form, seeping in a fog-like form around the wolf. Vilkas's body shook, shuddering against his will. Some fur shortened though most fell from his body that began to convulse, slowly. His bones cracked, rearranging themselves, his skin softened. In the course of seconds, he was human again, his forearms and knees pressed to the ground, his long black hair falling loose over his face. He turned his face back up to Breonvere, his yellow eyes losing their glow.

“You've lost, wolf. Your pack will not reach you in time, I assure you. And as for your human, that half-breton girl? This isn't over. You really should have turned her when you had the chance,” Brenovere said. “And now that my clan is dead, I have no one to focus on but her for the next thousand years. I will enjoy breaking her.” Vilkas growled, as Brenovere laughed. The dunmer turned from him, going to retrieve a dagger from a nearby table. “But first I will attend to you.”

With a great deal of effort, Vilkas forced himself up to his knees, then to his feet while the dark elf's back was still turned. Vilkas had let go of his control to the wolf because of Cairne, he had lost his will from the dark magic because of Brenovere. He had come to prove that  _ he _ was in control, to end them, and here he was, losing to some leeches as if he were still a pup, unable to fend for himself. Kodlak had said he didn't need revenge, but he was wrong. He said it would mar his soul, but he didn't care.

The black energy surrounding him seemed unable to touch him, its tendrils folding back just before they would lick his skin. As silently and quickly as he could, he moved forward. As he stepped over Cairne he bent down to pick up his sword, the silver on the handle hissing as it burnt into his skin. The noise grabbed Brenovere's attention and he turned around but it was too late. Vilkas shoved the sword upward into the man, hilt-deep. He watched as the vampire's soulless black eyes lost their light but did nothing to hasten his end. When the man had finally died, he dropped his sword and yanked it from him. 

Just in time to be thrown into the wall, his sword yanked from his hand by magic.

“I am Auro, and you are going to die.”


	40. Auro

“Come into my chambers, let us have some privacy,” the Breton said, almost pleasantly.

Vilkas found himself floating along behind Auro. Again he tried to resist the magic but the spell the four-hundred (plus) vampire cast was even stronger than his second-in-command's. As soon as Auro had drawn him into the room, he waved his right hand, dropping him to the floor as the doors on either side of the chamber slammed shut with a loud bang.

Now Vilkas was kneeling on the ground, unable to get up as the man took a seat. His figure wasn't as powerful or imposing as Brenovere nor as revolting as Cairne's. He was pale skinned and short, as most Bretons were, maybe three inches taller than Everlee with similar roundness in his facial features and the high cheekbones that hinted at elven ancestry. He was medium build, clearly a magic user with no real muscle tone to indicate that he'd decided to add any extra emphasis to his vampiric strength. He wore modern robes, light green and tan, and more suited for traveling than to impress (as opposed to the dunmer's). He sat down in an old throne, vines growing about it, and rested his chin on his hand, his light blue eyes falling on Vilkas once more. Behind him, a pile of bodies were stacked haphazardly. Four adult Nords, five children, and one female argonian stared lifelessly out at him – the farmhold they had not been in time to save. 

“So this is what it comes to is it?” Auro asked. “My biological line dead, my vampire line dead, and my lover run through with a sword for his own theatrics.”

“You're monsters,” Vilkas growled.

Auro laughed hollowly. “That's rich, coming from you, you know?”

“We don't murder.”

“That depends on your definition, doesn't it? You know when I heard what happened to your Order I thought you'd be done for. How can a supposedly honorable group continue to exist as mutts I wondered,” Auro said. “I felt bad for you actually. But then not only did you keep going but you turned more to your kind. If your members worked hard enough, were honorable enough, they would get the chance to be gifted with the curse of lycanthropy. What a very twisted little reward.”

Vilkas growled but said nothing.

“So I take it you're not a fan of the Blood? Would explain why you didn't just turn the girl to avoid her becoming Vampire due to me, yes? I had thought perhaps that it was some code that kept you from it, but I can see now I was mistaken,” Auro said. He squinted at him, then nodded his head as if listening to something. “Part of you still hates him for turning you.”

Vilkas glared, aware that the headache at the back of his skull was the Breton probing his mind.

“I don't blame you. What kind of parental figure does that to his child? You Companions claim you are all about family. But what family curses its own members to become mutts whenever they lose themselves to some passion or other? You know what I did to those who cursed my family, who turned the last of my bloodline into abominations? I turned them inside out. Literally. It seems we both enjoy a bit of sweet revenge,” he said. “But you see, you get it. It's not a gift. And you wolves? You're not even immortal. We're just two sides of the same coin, my friend, though one side has better benefits.”

“We are nothing alike!” Vilkas said.

“Oh, but we are,” Auro said. “Both of us tired of our curse, not sure if it is a good or a bad thing. We both wonder if there's a cure and at what cost that cure would come. And soon, we will both know what it's like to see the person we love turned into a monster.”

Vilkas's eyes widened. “What are you talking about? You didn't -”

“No, Brenovere is...was very old fashioned, you see. He wanted every clan member we had to trace his or her bloodline back to me, and only me. Consolidate the power,” he said. “But me? I'm practical. I knew you would come and I knew you would kill me. After centuries, it's almost a relief. But I also knew Brenovere wouldn't leave me to save himself. He would die here, the fool. And I knew it would take all your Circle to destroy us. Which means there's no one there to protect your family,” the Master Vampire explained.

“No!”

Outside Vilkas could hear banging on the doors, limited fighting in the hall, the howl of a wolf. But it almost seemed distant with the words coming forth from the vile man's mouth.

“A large force couldn't gain entrance, couldn't sneak by. But a small force? My best assassin? She could sneak in, even leave the rest of your family alive if they don't get in the way, and give your Breton girl immortal life,” he said. “You took mine, now I take yours. It's only fair.”

“Bastard!” Vilkas said, fighting hard to rise but unable to.

“Perhaps you should thank me? We both know her odds of living. I suppose it comes down to whether you think death is preferable to the curses we bear.”

Vilkas screamed, frustrated, breaking from the spell as the doors burst open. He ran at the Vampire, his yellow wolfish eyes glowing as he climbed the dais. With supernatural strength, Vilkas thrust his right hand forward, busting through Auro's ancient chest, and crushing his heart. Auro released one last breath that sounded like a sigh of relief.

Vilkas turned to the eerily silent room. At the left entrance stood his brother, Kodlak, and Aela. At the right Skjor who was transforming back into his human shape. They all stared up at him in disbelief.

“We have to get back, we have to get back now.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A suicide mission, that's what it was. Bia's Maker knew she couldn't resist a challenge. It had nearly been her downfall as a mortal until she had left the Dark Brotherhood to begin her immortal life at his side. 

Getting into the city had been easy. The guards at the door and drawbridge had been attentive, but it had been no difficult task (for her) to simply circle around the city and enter through the sewers which, leading out by the keep, left only a short walk to Jorrvaskr, her destination. 

The hall was dim, only one light on inside it seemed. Brenovere's men had injured several of their members, but it wasn't enough and they had not managed to kill a single member. The legendary order was living up to its reputation and that should have frightened her, but instead it only served to sharpen her senses, to excite her. She waited quietly for a moment, debating on how best to enter and escape notice, when, as luck would have it – two women stepped out wearing cloaks indicating they were healers, likely through the local temple.

“Go, Martha. Send for Vita, you need to rest,” the grandmotherly Imperial said to the youthful redhead next to her.

“But Agna -”

“Shh, you did well, child. Your mana will build in time, but this young woman has no time to wait for it. I must return, send Vita,” Agna said.

Martha nodded. “Very well, thank you.”

Agna nodded goodbye and re-entered the meadhall. Bia smiled, and waited for the young healer to pass her before reaching out, and dragging the girl into the darkness, a hand over her mouth.

“I need your clothes. Scream and I will kill you. You aren't going to turn around. You are going to take off your robe, and lay it on the ground next to you,” Bia instructed. “Do you understand?”

Martha nodded and Bia released her. Quickly the healer pulled her robes over her head and laid them on the ground next to her. Underneath she wore a light pink dress, too thin for the fall weather and the girl shivered, goose bumps forming on her brown skin. Bia quickly stepped closer, covering the girl's mouth once more as she thrust her dagger into the girl's kidney.

“I never said that I wouldn't kill you if you complied,” Bia whispered.

Quickly Bia moved the healer's body, throwing it into the sewer near her. By the time it washed up Bia would be long gone. She pulled the robe over herself, making sure it covered her ears, throwing her feline feature into total blackness before she entered the Hall. 

At the dining table was a lone Nord woman who had been glaring at a cup of full mead. Bia moved past her, toward the stairs that likely led to the living quarters.

“Where are you going?” the woman asked.

“I am taking over for Martha,” she answered, making sure to lose her accent.

The woman huffed, “Figures. I'll show you the way.”

“Thank you.”

The first room they passed contained three members, all injured and lying in bed, though the two males were still awake, playing cards as the female, a darker skinned nord with her head and abdomen wrapped, slept propped up in the corner.

The rest of the hall was silent. When the reached a set of double doors on the right, the nord used her thumb to point to them.

“She's in there,” the woman said.

Bia nodded and turned to enter. The woman grabbed her arm, and the assassin fought the urge to run her through.

“Make sure you treat her well. She is a Companion and she deserves your best efforts,” the woman said before roughly letting go of her. Bia nodded once more but the Nord had already walked away.

Bia entered, drawing her dagger and holding it unseen in the confines of the large sleeve as she shut the doors behind her.

Inside there were two other healers, the elderly nord she had seen earlier called Agna, who was pouring yellow light over a pale curvy Breton, or half-Breton who was clearly suffering from the after effects of severe life-drain among other things. The second person was a gaunt, thin Imperial who was busy fussing over a table of herbs, a mortar and pestle in hid hands. Agna looked up at her arrival, and smiled, her magic never faltering.

“Good, sister Vita, I need you to help me, come stand beside me,” she instructed. “Jamison is making the next round of numbing herbs. We've made some progress on the tissue on her back, but the one near her right hip needs reopened and worked on. Even still with the blood poisoning -”

Bia smiled, complying quickly with the order as the old woman rambled on. It was at this moment, however, that Jamison's eyes strayed from his herbs to see the end of Bia's tail flick from her robes. He dropped the mortar and pestle in time to grab Agna away from the blade Bia had thrust where her spine had been seconds before.

“Who are you?” Jamison asked, as he and Agna backed into a corner.

“I am not here for you,” Bia said, allowing her accent to come through. “But if you scream, I will kill you.”

It was a lie, but she did need them to stay silent long enough to make sure the quiet was permanent. Jamison looked at the door, easily giving away his intention as he made a dash for it. Bia grabbed his arm, spinning him, and pushing the dagger into the base of his skull, thrusting upward. He fell the floor heavily. Agna, the old woman, paled and went to scream, but the dagger she threw at her throat stopped the sound before it ever escaped. Without another moment to waste, Bia approached the girl her Master wanted her to Turn. 

She stared down at her, her brown locks matted to her forehead. Bia lifted her hood and said, “You are a lot of trouble.”

Bia bent down to bite the woman's neck when a sharp pain ripped through her, taking her legs away from her. She looked down where a sword protruded from her abdomen, the only thing keeping her on her feet.

“Yes, she is,” said a voice with an accent. “But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to keep her the way she is.”

Bia laughed, blood spilling from her lips. She was dying on this stranger's blade and yet he elicited that response? There was no way the man behind her could be one of the stodgy old Companions. She would never have time to figure out who he was, however, as he ran a blade over her throat, ending her misery swiftly.


	41. Misunderstandings

Brynjolf turned from the Khajiit assassin in time to be greeted with the angry glare of two very bulky Nords. One was over six and half feet tall, broad-chested, not an inch of his body didn't appear muscled. His armor had blood splatter still on it. The other Nord was still tall, maybe two inches taller than Brynjof's own 6'1''. In stark contrast to his heavily armored companion, the Nord was bare-chested, standing in nothing but his smallclothes. He was also well muscled, though his build was not as thick and impressive as the other one. Both shared the same black locks and yellow eyes as well as the same menacing glare. 

And there he was, clad in his light leathers and standing over the bodies of three people wearing the robes of the temple healers with a bloody sword in his hand.

“I didn't do it?” Brynjolf said, realizing how bad the situation looked as he lowered his sword.

The smaller Nord shoved him right and up against a wall, his right fist, covered in dried blood, wrapping around his throat, with his other arm he quickly disarmed Brynjolf of his sword before pressing his shoulder against the wall. The taller Nord drew his blade which was the size of a full grown man. Brynjolf kept his breathing steady, trying to remain calm, to show them they had nothing to fear from him. 

“Farkas, check for weapons,” the one holding him demanded.

The large man, Farkas, sheathed his sword and proceeded to remove all the daggers and weapons Brynjolf had on his person. He only missed one, a small blade at his right ankle that he'd have no way of reaching unless the situation changed. He also removed his lockpicking tools. 

“Assassin,” the smaller man practically hissed, his hand tightening around Brynjolf's throat. Brynjolf instinctively went up to grab onto the hand at his throat, but the Nord slammed him against the wall hard. “Keep your hands where they are.” The man loosened his grip on the redhead's neck slightly and Brynjolf dropped his hands.

“I didn't -” Brynjolf began.

“We saw you kill her,” the man holding him said, referring to the Khajiit in healer robes. “You were going to Turn her. But you didn't and your Master is dead. And soon you will be too.

Before anything else could happen, a woman ran into the room. Brynjolf could just see her around the fellow who was manhandling him and he recognized the female Companion from Blackrbriar's task.

“You!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” 

“You know him?” the man who held him growled.

“He's a mercenary, tried to take our job about two weeks ago,” Njada said.

Two men then entered, a dunmer limping heavily on a nord whose arm was in a sling.

“So he claimed, anyway,” Athis confirmed, removing his arm from the thin Nord and leaning against the far wall.

“Something is odd about this, Vilkas,” Farkas said earnestly and Brynjolf laughed.

“You could say that again. This wasn't at all how I expected to spend my night,” Brynjolf said as Vilkas glared.

“I know I could,” Farkas said.

Njada sighed, annoyed.

“What's going in?” a familiar voice demanded.

“Get back kid,” the thin Nord said, attempting to grab him and shoo him from the room. “This isn't the place for you.”

“Let go, Torvar, I need to see if she's ok. Let go of me, let go!” he said, and kicked the man hard in the groin who began to curse.

Jared ran into the room, dodging Njada to see the thief shoved up against the wall, one very strong nord hand gripping hard onto his throat.

“Brynjolf?” he asked surprised.

He really wished he hadn't used his real name, or the name he was most commonly known as at any rate.

“Brynjolf? He said his name was Alvar,” Njada said.

Jared turned to look at her before looking back at the thief once more, concern on his face. 

“What's going on?” he asked.

“Get him out of here,” Vilkas said.

Njada made to grab him but he dodged from her grip, stumbling on the body of the dead assassin. He gasped and kept his balance as he took in the other bodies.

“What happened?” Jared asked again.

“He tried to kill her,” Vilkas said, cutting off Brynjolf's air so he couldn't protest.

“No!” Jared said, grabbing at Vilkas's arm but Farkas pulled him away. “Stop it! Stop!”

“Vilkas,” his brother said. “I think we should let him explain. It seems Jared knows him. At any rate he hasn't fought back, even as you choke him. If he were the assassin, don't you think he would try? Feel for a pulse.”

Njada looked back and forth from the two Circle members. The situation seemed under control for the moment. She turned to see if Athis had re-injured himself. It was the fourth time he'd gotten out of bed despite strict orders to the contrary. 

“Why are you still standing?” she asked. “Get to bed.”

He grunted, “Do I look like a child?”

Still, his face was drawn in pain. He wouldn't see a healer until the morning and she'd like to hope that he would be relatively in the same condition they had left him in. Which reminded her.

“I will go see that the Temple sends more healers,” Njada said.

“I'm sure they will be thrilled about that,” Torvar said as he went back over to Athis. “Come on, blue boy, time to limp you out of here.”

Athis glared, but swung his arm over the Nord anyway and the two left the room. Vilkas slowly relaxed his grip on Brynjolf's neck, his eyes never having left him. He didn't need to check his pulse. His fingers had been wrapped around his neck, had felt his heart beating, felt the heat of his skin. He was not a vampire, though that still left questions unanswered.

“Just because he isn't the vampire doesn't mean he's not the assassin. They could have left him alive to use him better,” Vilkas said.

“That is not what it sounded like from what you said,” Farkas said.

“He's not an assassin! He hates the Dark Brotherhood,” Jared protested.

“You hate the Dark Brotherhood?” Farkas asked.

Brynjolf shrugged, “We're not on good terms.”

“Someone want you dead?” Vilkas asked.

“Probably. Is that any different for you?”

Vilkas didn't deny it. Rather he turned his eyes from the man for the first time to look at Jared. “How do you know him?”

“He's a merchant in Riften. He helped look after me and my friend when Everlee – when she uh...”

“When she  _ what? _ ” Vilkas asked.

“Joined a band of merrymaking minstrels, you know how she -” Brynjolf began.

“Shut up, I wasn't talking to  _ you.” _

“When she disappeared one night,” Jared said, trying to come up with a story quickly, seeming to realize that mentioning the Thieves Guild or the Dark Brotherhood probably wasn't the best choice.

“Does she do that a lot?” Farkas asked. Vilkas glared at him and Farkas shrugged. “It just seems like she finds trouble a lot.”

“That's what I said,” Brynjolf said.  _ Though sometimes it's the handsome rogue sort and sometimes it's the smelly half-naked babarian sort apparently. _

“She went hunting and was delayed by bandits,” Jared finished his lie. “When Everlee had been missing a whole week I wrote him. I thought he could help.”

“I just got the letter earlier today, however. I was out of town and came here when I received it,” Brynjolf said, finishing his story. “When I got here I noticed a scantily clad and very dead Nord in the nearby sewer and rushed inside. This one,” Brynjolf said, nudging the dead Khajiit with his foot, “was about to sink her teeth into the lass when I got here so I killed her. The other two were already dead.”

Vilkas nodded at Farkas who leaned down and checked the body. “Yeah, she's a vampire and she's wearing armor under the robe with some more blades.”

The man finally let Brynjolf go, who rubbed his neck where it had turned red, knowing it was likely to bruise by the morning.

“Well if that is settled, I shall bid farewell -” Brynjolf began but Vilkas interrupted him.

“No, you will stay here. At least until she can sort this out,” he said, looking back to Everlee briefly. _ And if she doesn't make it? _ Part of Brynjolf wondered but he didn't say it. He hadn't traveled across half of Skyrim to see the lass die now. Instead he nodded as Farkas offered to lead him to his new (and guarded) quarters.


	42. Waking Up

When I awoke I discovered that I was not surrounded by rubble, not in any immediately noticeable pain, and not in my bed. I blinked, my vision coming into focus too slowly to make out much at first. I turned my head, feeling dizzy as I did as the outline of a person came into focus in the dimly lit room.

“Brynjolf?” I asked, confused. 

The thief looked up from the little book he had been writing in, strapping it on his belt as he did so. He smirked, before raising a finger to his lips. “I'm not here.”

“And here is?”

“Bulky sweat-smelling giant number two the more compact edition's room,” Brynjolf joked, the familiar sound of his voice setting me at ease. 

“Thanks. That made everything as clear as my vision,” I said even as the room came into complete focus. I looked around the room once more and saw a giant's head on a pike standing before the wall opposite of Brynjolf. “Vilkas's room. Jorrvaskr.”

“Been in it before, have you lass?” 

I groaned as my body protested against me lifting myself up into a sitting position to throw a pillow at him. “It always comes down to that with you.”

“Not always, but when it does come, it-”

“Stop, just stop right there. One innuendo per minute is enough,” I said.

“As you wish,” he said, still smirking. I rolled my eyes at him.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“Besides saving your life?” he asked. “Unfortunately very little.”

“Saving my life?” I asked. “I don't...” 

“There was an assassin from some recently extinct vampire clan?” he asked.

“Great, them. Wait, they're dead?”

“What are you doing in here?” a deep voice growled, no love for the red-haired thief sitting before me in his voice.

“Ah, there's my jailer now. I was just vacating your quarters of course,” he said. “I didn't mean to steal the twenty seconds you don't spend in here stealing your air -”

“Just go,” Vilkas interrupted him, moving into the room stiffly, muscles taut. 

“So I'm free to -”

“No. Stay in the meadhall,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Bryjolf mocked one last time before winking at me. “I'll allow you two to get a room.”

I rolled my eyes at him as he shut the door on his way out. Vilkas looked at me steadily, silence stretching over us awkwardly before he seemed to realize and made his way to sit down in a chair closer to me than Brynjolf had taken up.

“You're feeling better?” he asked formally.

“Compared to dying? Yes,” I said. 

Vilkas didn't say anything, not meeting my eyes as his brows furrowed.

“You said you weren't,” he said finally.

“We both knew I was lying,” I said, quietly, feeling the awkwardness build. “What happened?”

“The Companions raided the tunnels. Farkas and some of the others dug you out, he brought you back. I couldn't – wasn't able,” he said, sounding reluctant to admit it. 

“That's not your fault. How are you after that? You were shot in the leg and -”

“You've been out of it for a week now, my injuries have been tended to more than once,” he said.

“A week?” I asked, surprised.

I had known I was near death but to be in a coma for so long, that I had survived that...

“I'm sorry,” I said.

Finally Vilkas's yellow eyes met my gaze. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I – I don't know.”

He looked away again. “We took care of the clan. There are none left to bother us.”

“The whole clan? Even Cairne and Brenovere and -”

“All of them, their leader Auro included,” he said, the venom in his voice unmistakable. “All except the assassin they sent.”

“Brynjolf mentioned something about that.”

“So you do know him?” Vilkas asked. 

I felt panic rise up in me at the suspicion in his voice. “Yes. We met in Riften.”

“He's a merchant?” he asked, the same doubt in his voice.

“Yes,” I said.

“Was he the friend you met the day before we left?”

“This is starting to sound like an interrogation.”

Vilkas glared at me. “It wouldn't if you hadn't anything to hide.”

“You're right, he's my secret lover and we have three lovely children together including an adopted Argonian named Sith.”

Vilkas narrowed his eyes and I shifted to sit up straighter to glare at him properly but doing so seemed to cause pain to flare up and I winced, gasping for air as I thwacked my head against the bed frame in an effort to lie down as my eyes squeezed shut. 

“Everlee, are you alright?” said another voice.

I took a deep breath in, the flash of pain gone nearly as quick as it had come. I opened my eyes to see Farkas staring down from way up high. I smiled at him gently and watched as the lines of worry eased from his face and he grinned widely down at me.

“I knew you would be alright. They healed you but said you may feel some pain for up to a week after you woke up.”

“They said 'if' you woke up,” Vilkas added. “I...apologize for straining you. Another time.”

And like that he was completely formal as he quickly exited the room, shutting the door Farkas had left wide open.

Farkas frowned, his face turning back to me after watching him leave. He took a seat on the bench Brynjolf had been on, moving as close to me as possible. “He is acting strange.”

“He seems to be acting pretty Vilkas-like to me,” I noted.

“Lately I do not understand my brother,” Farkas said, shaking his head. “He has spent nearly every minute at your side since we killed the clan yet now that you're awake he is angry and leaves.”

“He did?” I asked, unsure of what to make of that revelation.

Farkas nodded. “He said he wanted to make sure no one else was left to try to get to you since the assassin almost turned you into a vampire. That's what he says, though I think he feels guilty that you stayed in the vampire den for so long. When it was feasible we moved you to his room though you were in mine at first. It seemed more practical.”

“I...” I began, but still unable to come up with a comment to Vilkas watching over me, said instead. “Why would he feel guilty? It isn't his fault.”

“I know that. But they used him to capture you and to keep you there when you could have escaped,” Farkas said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Vilkas told me,” his twin answered. “Said you were able to devise a way out when you had to. He figures you saved his life.”

“I – well, I'm his shield-sister. He would do the same for me,” I said.

“I told him that myself but he doesn't listen to me,” Farkas said. “He likes to make things complicated.

“You can say that again,” I said.

“I know,” Farkas said, grinning wide.

I shook my head, smiling at his odd sense of humor. Then trying to fill in more holes in my knowledge said, “Brynjolf seems to be under the impression he's being held captive.”

“No. We wanted to keep an eye on him when we found him standing over you with a bloody sword.”

“Understandable,” I said.

“Yeah, but he hasn't been the murder-sort of trouble. Just seems to enjoy driving Vilkas and Njada crazy. Vilkas forbid him from seeing you, said it was for your safety, but Aela thinks it's so that he could get away from the merchant,” Farkas said.

I laughed, “That sounds like Brynjolf. So, the vampire clan is dead? All of them?”

“Yes,” Farkas said but he was frowning now.

“That's a good thing right? None left to exact a more elaborate revenge scheme right?”

“No.” But he was frowning.

“What's wrong?”

“Vilkas,” he said, but didn't elaborate.

“Vilkas?”

“Vilkas not being like Vilkas.”

“Right, you said that, but I still don't see -”

“I promised I wouldn't talk about it,” Farkas said, offering an apologetic smile. “But I will say that Vilkas did a lot of the work in regards to the Vampire clan. You might...ask him about it. He still refuses to speak to me when I ask.”

“Ask him what?”

“I can't say.”

“Right.”

“Sorry.”

We sat in silence until a knock on the door brought forth Tilma, a bowl of soup, and a healer. 

“I will go now,” Farkas said. “But if you need me, call. I will probably be nearby.”

“Thanks, Farkas.”

“Shield-sister.”

The healer saw to my wounds, and remarked that I was nearly completely healed, her eyes seemed disbelieving as she spoke which was not a reassuring sign for how close I had come to death. When she and Tilma exited I began eating my soup, Brynjolf sneaking in silently before the door shut.

“Good to see you awake, lass,” Brynjolf said.

“Bored of watching my beauty rest?”

“Is that what you'd call the look on your face? Hmm,” he said.

“I'd throw a pillow but I'm running low,” I joked.

Brynjolf laughed and grabbed the pillow from the bench and placing it beside me, helping me lean forward, his warm calloused hand on my back deftly lifting me without causing pain.

“Seriously, are you alright?” he asked. “You had me worried.”

“I seem to be good at that,” I said. “I'm fine. And thank you, for saving my life.”

“I owed you one, didn't I?” he said. “Well, for saving my face anyhow.”

“Yes, wouldn't want your roguish good looks to fade. What would you have left?”

“So, you admit I'm good looking?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a blush form on my cheeks again as I took another sip of the broth Tilma had prepared.

“You're blushing,” he said, sounding too pleased with himself.

“It's the soup.”

“Uh huh.”

“So you're on lockdown?” I asked, changing the subject.

Brynjolf laughed. “Not exactly. They stopped watching me closely after the first day.”

“Your charm not work on them?”

“It works the way I want it to lass,” he said. “They wouldn't miss me now except for the relief they'd feel, unsure of why.”

“Then why are you still here?” Then, realizing that might be offensive because he was probably there to see me, I said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean -”

“No, I'm not offended,” he said easily but I had the feeling it was a front.

“Brynjolf, I'm sorry,” I repeated. “I know we haven't known each other long but...anyway I'm glad you're here. Not glad to worry you, but glad you stayed.”

“Aye, me too. I had almost forgotten what pretty eyes you have,” he said.

“Stop it.”

“Blushing.”

I pursed my lips and threw a pillow.

“What's going on here?” Vilkas asked, having come in through the door once more, as if on que. His eyes went from the pillow Brynjolf was holding to the blush on my cheeks and suddenly I felt like a silly and errant child.

“Abuse, I do believe. I really should speak to someone about my rights as a prisoner here,” Brynjolf said.

“Go.”

“Charming,” Brynjolf said sarcastically as he stood up and turned to me. “Feel better, Everlee. I think I may get parole soon, if not I might just have to escape.”

He winked at me and I realized that he meant he was leaving and I opened my mouth to protest, to ask him to stay but he was already out the door, Vilkas shutting it somewhat forcefully behind him. Vilkas sat down on the bench, as far from me as he could manage, and picked up a book that had been set on the table beside it.

I sighed, leaning back heavily against the bed once more. Unbidden the memory of his voice saying my name, rocking me back and forth while I was on the edge of consciousness came back to me. Had...had I really told him that I liked him saying my name? 

“You're blushing,” Vilkas said, sounding confused.

“Seems to happen a lot,” I muttered, wishing I could hide my face from him without making it look obvious.

“With the merchant?” Vilkas asked, his voice less friendly.

“No, I mean yes, technically. You listen to him for five minutes,” I said.

“I have, unfortunately.”

“He's a good guy.”

The nord's eyes drilled holes into me, as if asking some question but I couldn't figure out what that might be.

“Anyway, that's not why,” I said, then wished I hadn't because I knew what he would ask.

“Then why were you blushing? Are you feeling ill?”

“I was thinking about some stupid things I probably said back when I wasn't dying,” I said.

He said nothing.

“What, no comment about how I normally say stupid things?”

“I didn't need to apparently,” Vilkas responded.

“Ha ha,” I said sarcastically.

Finally, after more silence and Vilkas had returned to his book I had to speak.

“Why are you always angry at me?”

“I'm not.”

“You act like it.”

“You misinterpret me.”

“So how am I supposed to interpret growling tones, narrowed eyes, and thinly veiled insults?”

“I am not angry at you,” he said, his voice rising.

“Then who are you angry at exactly? I'm the only one in this room.”

“No you're not,” he said and stopped abruptly.

“You're angry at yourself?” I asked. “Is this...because you think...it wasn't your fault.”

“Of course it wasn't.”

At that I felt myself suddenly unable to speak. His tone spoke clearly of whose fault he thought it was. I laid my head back against the bed frame again, my head tilting upward, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“It wasn't your fault either,” Vilkas said, sounding unsure of his words.

“You lie so well,” I said sarcastically, my eyes following a small crack in stone above me.

“I'm not lying, I just wasn't sure if I was saying the right thing.”

“Don't strain yourself.”

“I'm  _ trying  _ to be nice. Kodlak...pointed out to me that we may be more similar than I thought,” he said.

I thought about his words for a moment before looking at him once more, prying my gaze from the ceiling. “You killed Auro?”

“I did.”

“And Brenovere and Cairne.”

“Yes. Farkas told you?”

“No, you just did. I would have, if it had been you or someone else I cared about that had almost died and I felt that it had been my fault.”

The corner of Vilkas's mouth lifted upward slightly, a small smirk that was enough to make me smile. I was reluctant to ask the next question.

“Did you Turn to kill them?” I asked.

He didn't answer for a moment. “Yes. Though I was human at the end. Mostly.”

I looked at him across the room and had the strange desire to reach out and touch his face to comfort him and was suddenly glad for the distance between us

“You are always human.”

“No, for awhile I...” Vilkas said, but struggled to continue, his jaw tight. “I lost myself.”

“You are always Vilkas,” I said.

“You don't understand,” he said, frustrated. “You will never understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I...I shouldn't have turned. Kodlak was right.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed to – to just –” Vilkas said, his hands balled tight into fists. “They nearly killed you, they caged me, took away everything. I wanted...”

“Revenge.”

“Yes.”

“That's human.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Do you tear out the throats of people who anger you?”

“No,” I said. “But that doesn't make you less human.”

“Then what does exactly?”

“You clearly feel guilty, Vilkas. That isn't something a monster feels.”

“A monster has many reasons to regret.”

I shook my head, frustrated. “You are a good person even if you have something about you that isn't perfect, that scares you because of what it's capable of and...” I stopped, thinking about my own thieving skills, about having run from Riften. “Maybe we are too much alike.”

Then I thought about what that meant though not in the deep way I might have pondered it had the healer not given me medicine, the affects of which were beginning to make me feel warm and fuzzy. I squished up my nose at the bizarre concepts floating in my head.

“What?” Vilkas inquired. “Why are you making that face?”

“If I'm like you and your brother has a crush on me, does that mean he's got a crush on you?” I asked. “If we dated, would that be like...incest?”

Vilkas laughed loud and rough once, unlike any noise I'd heard him make before and it caused me to laugh, smiling. 

“Your medicine seems to be working,” he said.

The sound of his voice seemed to resonate in my chest, reminding me of when he had rocked me in his arms once more as the world became distant and dream-like.

“You shouldn't be so angry,” I said. “Your face is nicer when you're not.”

“I'm not sure if that is a compliment or an insult.” 

I said nothing, beginning to fall asleep I said, “I was blushing because I told you I liked your voice.”

“I believe you said you liked my voice saying your name,” he said, a surprising hint of humor in his tone that even my tired brain picked up on.

“That too,” I said. He smiled and I was almost certain I was hallucinating on the end of consciousness as I continued blathering on. “Brynjolf has a nice voice too. I like his accent. Don't tell him. It will go to his head.”

Vilkas said something as I fell completely asleep but I couldn't make out what it was.


	43. Mothers

As I expected, Brynjolf had left soon after our conversation though I received a letter a couple of days later from him that was mostly a progress report of how the hunt for the symbol-person was going. Attached, however, had been a short letter from Lynn in his hand writing wishing me well and asking how things had been going. I wrote her back, giving her letter to Farkas to give to a messenger.

I had insisted being able to get up and move around before the healers had approved the action which did not sit well with Vilkas so I often had to resort to sneaking out with the help of Ria or Farkas to walk the grounds, or practice archery or my sword fighting skills. When I tired I watched as they trained Jared. In the months since we had arrived, he had grown a couple of inches and his voice now occasionally cracked, causing him to blush.

A week later I was finally given approval to do some minor Companion duties though it felt more like a peace offering than anything. They didn’t want me on any mission where I could get hurt (or make the Companions look like milk drinkers according to Njada) so I was left to patrol a road that Whiterun’s guards frequently secured. 

I rolled my shoulders, pulling out my bow and aiming it at the rabbit I could spot in the distance. It wasn’t a hunting mission but I had heard Farkas mention that he had been desiring to have one for dinner and I knew that Aela never bothered with game that small. I drew the string, my muscles aching from lack of use, then fired. I missed the hare by inches and cursed as it skittered away.

“It will get better, you just have to keep practicing,” Ria said cheerily.

I resisted the urge to snap at her, to tell her that I wasn’t a child learning how to wield a bow. But I knew that she meant well and jogged off to retrieve the arrow instead as she followed on my heels.

“Why were you going after the hare anyway? Aela just got a bunch of game two days ago,” Ria asked.

“Farkas mentioned craving one,” I said as we began to patrol the road once more.

“You and Farkas are really close,” Ria mentioned, and I heard a hint of something in her voice I couldn’t quite figure out.

“Yeah, I guess so. The two of you have been really kind to me since I signed up for the Companions.”

“He talks about you a lot.”

I wasn’t sure why that comment made me uncomfortable. Unable to come up with any intelligent retort, I resorted to, “Oh.”

“There’s a rumor that you two are sleeping together.”

“What?” I asked, shocked, my footsteps briefly faltering. “Who told you that?”

“Torvar. He was drunk.”

“When is he  _ not _ drunk?”

“Is it true?” Ria asked.

“Of course not. Why would you believe him?”

Ria shrugged but then she stopped walking and in a sad voice, “I think he likes you.”

I didn’t know what to say or why her tone had taken an unhappy air. Was she upset because Farkas was talking about me (apparently “ a lot”)? Was she afraid of losing her best friend to some new relationship? Or…

I remembered the way she had looked at Farkas when he talked of Kodlak’s stories, her eyes shining. I had assumed it was because she was elated to be a Companion, to hear their stories, to know she was making her own. I recalled her talking about her time since joining, many of her adventures including Farkas and how I had never heard her speak of him without enthusiasm. I tried to recall seeing her at the feast in honor of my joining, how she had looked at us dancing, but I couldn’t picture her there as distracted as I was by everything that had happened that night.

“Ria –” I began, unable to keep the concern out of my voice.

“Well,” she said, faking enthusiasm, “does he? Has he told you that he does?”

“Ria, I don’t know what to say,” I said dumbly.

Ria’s smile faltered, her mouth turning down into a frown, the corners of her eyes hard. “Just tell me. Please, he’s my friend. I can’t seem to ask him myself.”

“Yes, he has said that he has feelings for me.”

“That’s good. I – I hope you two will be happy together,” Ria said, before returning to walking at a brisk pace.

“Ria,” I called, jogging a bit to keep up with her. “It isn’t like that. We’re not together.”

She stopped and turned to me. “You turned him down?” she asked, hesitantly.

“No, not exactly. I told him I had to think about it,” I said. “I never thought of him like that so it came as a surprise when he told me.”

“Do you think of him like that now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, sitting down on a large stump just off the road. I looked at my hands, palms turned upward in my lap. I looked at her, “How can you tell? How do you know if that’s how you feel for someone?”

“I don’t know. I think you just know,” Ria said, taking a seat next to me. “Aren't you twenty five? Haven't you ever felt that way about...anyone?”

I look at my fingers, lacing and unlacing them. “Well, not really. I mean, maybe when I was younger but it wasn't anything serious. Most the people I met in Cyrodiil were with my mother's guild or their children. I didn't have a lot in common with them and I never seemed to fit in.”

“Your mom was a mage right?” she asked and I nodded. “What about when you were older?”

I shrugged. “I joined the fighter's guild for awhile but those men didn't want to work with me, thought I was too small, too young, too female. I took some solo jobs but they never let me have anything that paid well. So I freelanced for awhile before my mother convinced me to come back and work for her.”

“Wasn't that lonely?”

I took a deep breath, trying not to be annoyed at her questioning and the way it made me feel like punching something. I knew it was because she cared, but I didn't like the way her voice sounded like pity or the way what I was saying made me sound broken.

“I guess so? I didn't think about it.”

“Didn't or refused to?”

The only thing I could do to avoid snapping at her was to say nothing.

“What about your mom?” Ria asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you never talked to your mom about this sort of stuff?”

“No. She wasn't exactly easy to talk to. Everything always led back to magic, it was her answer for everything. If I wasn't happy than I should practice more. Magic was the only really rewarding thing for her. I think she had...relations. But they were always short, discreet.”

“Oh. Well, then I guess I could tell you how I think a person knows what they feel.” When I didn't object she continued, “You know how you feel because you can't stop thinking about them and you get nervous or excited to see them. You hurt when they hurt and are happy for them when they're happy, even if what makes them happy isn't you.”

“Ria...” I said, at a loss for what to say. I almost confronted her about the last part but lost nerve. “But can't you feel that way about friends too?”

It was Ria's turn to shrug as she shifted beside me, “Yeah but it's different.”

“Different how?”

“You just feel it.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing she couldn't see me do so. Then, in a cheerier voice said sarcastically, “That's helpful.”

Ria laughed. “I know. I mean, it's not always easy to tell, especially at first. And if you've...avoided ever thinking or feeling that way I guess it would be really hard to tell. Maybe I could ask you some questions?”

“Aren't you?” I asked.

“Specifically. Does he make you smile, do you feel happy when you're with him?”

That wasn't a difficult question and I answered rapidly, “Yes.”

“Does he make your heart race, make you feel both afraid and like laughing at the same time?” 

Before I could think about Farkas I thought of Brynjolf after I had gotten free of the Dark Brotherhood. I still remembered how he'd backed me into the tree, how fear for my self-preservation had turned into something more in moments. And I had run from there, from Riften, not long after.

I didn't dwell on that thought, the next coming rapidly. I thought of battling Vilkas that first day I had asked to undergo the trials to become a Companion. How my heart had beat faster, making me feel truly alive. I remembered falling on top of him as he we had taken each other down, and how the laughter from his own chest had shook my knees. 

Then I thought of Farkas. I had felt nervous dancing with him, enough to border on nausea at first. I had been afraid of what everyone would think, of messing something up with my friend. I hadn't been excited at first. Then when the nervousness had faded, I had felt...comfortable. Farkas always felt comfortable. He was the best friend I had ever had, almost like family. 

“No. It's hard to feel nervous around him. I trust him and feel comfortable with him,” I said.

“That's good. But what about excited? Hasn't anything he ever did left you wanting something more? Maybe even something you really weren't sure about? Made your heart beat faster?”

“No, I mean...” I said. I had answered too quickly, before thinking. “What do you mean?”

“Like a smile or him touching your arm or sometime when the space between you was close? Have you never felt you wanted something more to happen?”

I thought about it for a moment but nothing came to mind. “I can't think of anything but I don't think I'd really know. I haven't been paying attention to that sort of thing until he told me and that was right before we went after the Vampires.”

Ria didn't say anything at first before finally saying, almost reluctantly, “That makes sense.”

“This bothers you, doesn't it?” I asked before thinking better of it.

“Yes,” she said. “At least if you liked him back I would know. And if you didn't, I would know. But not knowing what is going to happen between you two is making me feel crazy. He's my best friend, and you're a good friend, things will be different if you two get together.”

I got the impression that wasn't the only concern she had about Farkas and me but decided not to push her. Instead I stood up and held out a hand to her to help her up which she took, rising to her feet. We continued along the path in what felt like a grim, uncomfortable silence.

Until we heard the shrieking. At the same time Ria and I took off at a run down the road. I was wearing light armor Farkas had gotten me to wear until I was fully healed and it allowed me to sprint much quicker than my typical heavy armor, enabling me to reach the man before Ria.

His clothes showed signs of heavy wear, rips in some places revealing small sections of skin, other times patched using dark thick thread. He was covered in dirt from the road and was hopping on one foot, glaring at his wagon which had broken down. Though his clothes were faded and dirty, it was that the striped pattern had once had vibrant shades of red, yellow, green and blue. Now everything was a dull, almost brown color, save some strips of red. As he bounced the bells on his jester's hat sounded noisily. 

“Hello,” Ria said pleasantly to the man as she came up behind him. “What seems to be the problem?”

The Breton's pale grey eyes met mine. There was a sharpness in them I found unexpected. Suddenly his face went from one of anger to one of overwhelming glee. My hand reached for the dagger in my belt before I could think twice about it and his wide-eyes followed the movement.

In a screeching, pitchy sing-song voice, the man responded, “The wheel! The wheel, oh the stupid, wheel. It broke and I'm stuck. Stuck! Watch it, watch it! You're about to trip over Mother.”

His head snapped to Ria who had started to look at the carriage's wheel that had been broken. To my right lie a large, plain box, the wood seeming to be in better condition than the carriage itself. From the looks of it, it had fallen out of the cart when the wheel had collapsed

“Your mother?” Ria asked, startled and giving the coffin wide berth.

“Yes Mother. Well dead. Mother is deceased. Quite dead. We came to take her to her new resting place. But we're stuck. Stuck. Mother, how could this happen? Poor Cicero, poor Mother.” 

“Your mother's name is Cicero?” Ria asked.

“No no no. She's mother. I am Cicero, Cicero is me.”

“Right,” Ria said. “Is there anything we can do for you? Perhaps help get your...mother back into the carriage?”

The first thought in my head was:  _ for free?  _ Normally I would help out a stranger when it was convenient but we were the Companions and the man seemed to be off, likely out of his mind. At the very least he was annoying, his voice giving me a headache.

“Do? For me. Of course, oh yes, yes,” he said, and began dancing, giggling. I tightened my grip on the dagger before forcing myself to let go of it. “I will pay you, yes a reward. Shiny clinky coin. Go to Loreius. He has tools, he can help. But he refused to help poor Cicero, turned us away. Go to him, convince him to help poor, poor Cicero and I will reward you with gleamy, shiny coin.”

I took this as my sign to leave, heading toward the farm the little man had indicated to up the road.

“Stop, stop. Not you. You I need to help with Mother,” the man said.

I looked at Ria, hoping she would say something to get me out of the situation but instead she said, “I can talk to Loreius, I did a job for him for free a year ago when his farm wasn't doing well. He owes me.”

“Ria -”

“Bye,” she said quickly, taking off at a jog up the hill.

“You, you will help poor Cicero, yes?” he asked.

I looked back at him, taking a deep breath as we positioned ourselves on either side of the box.

“You do not speak much. Silence your mistress?” 

_ Only when I am wary. _ I didn't respond, just bent down to pick up the box which was much heavier than I had imagined. The coffin inside must have been made of some sturdy, thick material. With great effort we managed to maneuver his mother onto the carriage (if that was indeed what was within). When we were done, I wiped the sweat from my brow.

I didn't feel comfortable standing with Cicero who continued to babble on about the farmer and his mother and his plight but I tuned him out, arms crossed as I gazed at the farm. Ria was taking some time and I wanted nothing more than to return to Jorrvaskr and get far from this man and his “mother.” I was thinking over the earlier conversation with Ria when I heard a sound like heavy breathing, and a scratching, like paper rustling or dead leaves in the wind.

“Do you hear that?” I ask finally.

“Hear? Hear what?” he asked.

I began looking around, looking under the carriage, and at the surrounding shrubberies along the road. The sound was getting louder, like whatever or whoever it was was getting nearer.

“What are you hearing?” he asked, sounding suddenly serious, angry.

I stopped looking for whatever the source of the noise was and turned to look at him, his eyes narrowed, head tilted. There was a dangerous look to him, like the madness within him would jump out and attack if I didn't answer him.

“I...it's nothing. Probably the wind,” I said.

“Wind? There is no wind. Cicero knows you're lying, what are you hearing?” he asked, taking a sudden step forward.

“Loreius has agreed to help,” Ria said. “He should be down with his tools in a few minutes.”

“Oh good! Good, you were good to poor Cicero. And for your efforts coin! But before you go -” he began, the coins falling into Ria's palms.

As soon as the last coin had fallen into her hands, I grabbed her by the arm and quickly began to drag her away from the scene.

“Uh, thanks! Good luck with your mother,” Ria said loudly over her shoulder. Then to me, “What's going on?”

“We need to get out of here.”

She didn't question me, tucking the coins into her purse before we both began to take off at a run. The further the from the strange man we got, the quieter the noise got until it stopped altogether. Finally I slowed our pace down to a walk.

“What was that?”

“I just remembered something. I have to meet with someone in Whiterun before dinner, sorry,” I said, lying too easily.

“Oh, ok. Well I'm sure he'll be alright now. Loreius is a good guy, a little paranoid about strangers, but that's just healthy out here alone.”

I didn't tell her that it was Loreius she sould be concerned about coming to harm, not Cicero. Rather, I trusted my instincts, continuing to put distance between us and the strange man and even stranger burden he was carting through Skyrim.


	44. Chickens

In the weeks that followed I regained the rest of my strength. It was a period of calm and relative normalcy – no Thieves Guild quests, no vampires with personal vendettas, and no strange little men with dead mothers. I frequently took jobs with Farkas and Ria. I noticed that the Companions seemed short of the other Circle members (Aela, Skjor, and Vilkas). Farkas then informed me they'd taken out-of-Hold jobs.

One day after Farkas had finished a training session with Jared, Farkas grinned at me and motioned me over toward the wall that overlooked the land outside Whiterun to the east. I approached, looking over the plains at the mountain the Grey Beards occupied that was just visible in the distance.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked. He'd gotten into the habit of asking me that every day though I had told him I had recovered perfectly several days prior.

“I'm good Farkas,” I said. 

I wasn't going to tell him to stop asking, I knew he wouldn't. And after not informing Vilkas how unwell I was during the hunting trip, I couldn't completely blame him for that.

“Good,” he said. 

Then Farkas reached out and grabbed my hands in his. Instantly I tensed up, barely managing to not pull away from him. I trusted him, but my instincts were not easy to overcome. I smiled nervously at him, my brain going to the talk Ria and I had had the other day. What was it I was feeling? My heart was beating fast but where did I want this scene to go? Before I could think about it, Farkas continued.

“How about we -” Farkas began.

Then his head turned up, focused on someone behind me. He let go of my hands and I turned around to see Vilkas standing there, covered in weeks worth of dirt with crusted blood on his armor. 

“Vilkas,” Farkas said, his voice only indicating happiness at his brother's return.

My cheeks were burning, my whole face hot. I felt the need to make an excuse about the hand-holding, though I wasn't sure why. I had already informed him that whatever happened between his brother and me was not his business. Still, I felt relieved that he had interrupted before anything else could have happened.

“Farkas, Kodlak has called a Circle meeting at Skyforge,” Vilkas said. 

Without waiting for a response or looking in my direction, he turned from Farkas and me and made his way toward the forge. I looked back at Farkas, searching his face to see if he had any inkling why such a sudden meeting would be called. Vilkas had clearly just returned from some long trip and had not even had the time to enter the Meadhall to wash up or eat before the Circle was being collected.

“What's going on? Are we in danger?” I asked, the word 'again' coming to mind.

“I do not know,” Farkas said honestly before turning his face back to mine. He smiled, “I'm sure he just wishes to discus his quest with us before washing up. He prefers to get business out of the way first.”

“And you don't know where they've been all this time?” I asked.

Farkas shook his head, his brow furrowing. “No. I asked Kodlak and he said that he didn't know.”

I frowned. “Right, well, that's not suspicious.”

“I'm sure whatever it is they're doing needed to be done quickly and that's why they left suddenly. We will find out soon,” Farkas said.

“Well,  _ you _ will. I'm not in the Circle, remember?”

“Not yet,” he said, smiling. “I have to go now to see what my brother wishes to talk to us about.”

I nodded and Farkas reached for my hands, squeezing them once more before going after his brother. I looked back out over the horizon. 'Not yet,' he had said. Did that imply that they still accepted new Circle members, that they would dare consider a new recruit, let alone one who had brought so much trouble to the guild already? Or was that just Farkas being his normally optimistic self? And what did becoming a Circle member entail? Did they still believe in making Circle initiates into werewolves?

I tried to put the thought out of my mind and enjoy the unnaturally warm evening when Ria came to lean against the wall at my side. “I hear Vilkas has returned. I think Farkas was starting to worry about him.”

“He didn't say anything to me about it but I can see that,” I said.

“I wonder why they left all of a sudden? It seems that Kodlak didn't approve of it, whatever they were doing. He seemed quite upset after Skjor came to speak with him just now.”

“I think Skjor is naturally upsetting and unsettling,” I said without thinking before turning to look behind me. No one appeared in the training yard but Ria and me, and I went back to staring out over Whiterun.

“He is, but not to the other Circle members. I've never seen Kodlak so upset,” Ria said. “Did Vilkas say anything to you?”

I snorted. “After the ordeal with the Vampires he hasn't spoken to me much.”

I thought back to the first day I had woken up, how at times there had been breaks in his normally hostile demeanor toward me, how I had heard him laugh despite everything we'd been through in the weeks prior. But in the weeks that followed he had avoided me, not something difficult to do given my lack of mobility at the time. And as soon as I could walk half-way decently he had gone off with Skjor and Aela.

“He doesn't talk to anyone much except the Circle,” Ria said. She looked up toward Skyforge. “Do you thin they'll tell us what they're talking about?”

“I doubt it.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was oddly quite at dinner that night as none of the Circle members were present. With little else to do, I turned into bed early with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The next morning I was helping Jared in the yard training when I heard someone approach from behind. “We have a job to do, pack a bag.”

I took a deep breath, turning to face the broody twin behind me. “Does it involve giants or vampires?”

“No. We leave in an hour,” Vilkas said, beginning to turn away.

“I didn't actually accept the job,” I muttered mostly to myself. I turned back to Jared, “Hey, sorry. Farkas said he'd train you this afternoon but I'd make sure he's still available at breakfast and if not go to Ria or Aela?” 

“Ok. Just – be safe alright?” he said. I nodded. “Good because if he gets you in trouble again I'll make sure he regrets it.”

I laughed, “And how would you do that?”

“Lynn taught me things, itchy sneaky things,” Jared said. “See you later, Ever.”

Jared continued to practice with his bow as I turned around and headed back to Jorrvaskr. As I was about to open the door, Farkas exited, grinning at me.

“Everlee, I was looking for you,” he said. “How are you doing this morning?”

“Still fine Farkas,” I said, smiling back at him.

“Good. Well last night I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out tonight after training with Jared,” Farkas said. “I thought maybe we could go to the winery. As a date.”

Luckily I didn't have to come up with an excuse about why the Thieve's Guild friendly brewery was a bad place for me to be or contemplate what dating Farkas would mean or whether I was ready for such a step because I already had an excuse that Vilkas himself had provided seconds before.

“I can't. Vilkas says he has a job he needs my help on today. He didn't say when we would be back or what it was, I was actually wondering if you knew.”

Farkas's eyebrows rose. “He didn't say anything to me about it.”

“So it doesn't have anything to do with the Circle and your meeting last night?”

“No,” Farkas said. “Well, maybe some other time when you two get back.”

I nodded and reached for the door handle, my heart still beating fast. Farkas had asked me out on a date, and it was more than a little suspicious that his brother seemed to have prevented it mere moments before his brother had come to ask about it. I let my hand rest on the door handle, turning my head back to Farkas who had begun to move toward Jared.

“Farkas?” I called, and he stepped back.

“Yeah?” 

“Did you tell Vilkas that you were going to ask me on a date?” 

“Yes, last night after the Circle meeting.”

I nodded before heading inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“So what is this about?” I asked Vilkas after we had been on the road for a half hour. 

It turned out whatever this quest was that he needed help with was something that two people could handle as it was just Vilkas and me.

“On our way back to Jorrvaksr we heard of some mercenaries hired to burn down farms around Rorikstead. There is some sort of family dispute going on and the local authorities are reluctant to get involved,” Vilkas said. 

“How many mercenaries are we looking at?”

“A handful, at least four, no more than ten. The reports aren't clear,” Vilkas said.

“That's sort of a big difference. Four men are easily dealt with, almost a dozen -” I began.

“Which is why I might need your aid, shield-sister,” he said.

I said nothing for awhile. “So, is there a particular reason you chose to take me instead of one our other Companions? You always seem to have a reason behind your choices.”

“Yes, if you must know. It's been some time since your injuries healed and you've yet to take any challenging jobs. I thought it possible that fear was getting the better of you and thus decided it was best to take you quickly from there to unknown odds to test your mettle,” Vilkas said.

I stopped walking, angry heat building within me. “You're telling me after everything that you think I'm a coward?”

He stopped walking, slowly turning around to meet me. His yellow eyes piercing into mine. “It would not be uncommon or unreasonable to fear battle after everything that happened. But as a Companion you must -”

“If I remember correctly it was you that was always preventing my jobs before you ran off with Skjor and Aela, saying that I wasn't ready to return to full duty. And then when you left we were restricted to Whiterun and the nearby areas by Kodlak because it  _ seems _ no one knew where you three ran off to, leaving a bunch of minor jobs in the area unattended,” I said. “I am perfectly willing and capable of facing danger and unknown odds.”

“Good, then you won't need to ask any more questions,” he said, turning about as if the subject were closed.

“Tell me Vilkas,” I said, walking a few steps behind him. “Is it a Circle concern about my heroics or a just a personal one?”

He didn't answer.

“Or maybe this has nothing to do with my courage at all and everything to do with the fact that your brother was about to ask me out on a date.”

Vilkas's pace faltered for a moment before he caught himself. If I hadn't been walking behind him I doubt I would have noticed.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Vilkas said.

“Yes, you do. Farkas told you about wanting to ask me out last night and at the crack of dawn you just happen to beat him to it,” I said. “I think you still don't trust me with him.”

“Farkas can take care of himself. I'm not worried about your childish flirtations,” he responded.

“Then it's just a coincidence that you asked, no,  _ told  _ me I was going on a quest with you seconds before Farkas -”

“This conversation is moronic and I will not continue it,” Vilkas said.

We walked the rest of the way to the farms near Rorikstead in silence. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took us most of the day to track down the mercenaries who were holed up at an abandoned giant camp. There was only three of them, standing around the remains of a large firepit which they had made camp around. Two of them appeared to be Nords with typical light skin and light hair, the third was a tan-skinned Imperial. They all seemed scrawny, with long limbs, and they looked like they hadn't eaten in some time.

It was easy to surround them. With our bows trained on them, Vilkas announced us.

“Halt,” he barked out. 

The order instantly froze all but the tallest Nord, a man with a ragged fox-pelt draped over him. He went to grab for his sword nearby but I shot an arrow that went right between his fingers.

“The next one won't miss,” I said.

He stopped moving. “What do you want?”

“Are you the leader?” I asked.

The man nodded. “I'm Bryant.”

“You have been burning down Augustus's farm. Why?” Vilkas asked.

“His cousin said he'd killed his livestock,” the other Nord said. Bryant shushed him.

“We aren't telling you anything,” Bryant said. “We got a job to do. Same as you.”

“You're burning down farms, homes, and endangering lives. Whatever he's paying you clearly isn't worth it,” I said, nodding toward their measly possessions. 

“We get paid more when the jobs done,” Bryant said. “Besides, the Swifts see their jobs through.”

“Then we shall run you through,” Vilkas growled.

I looked at him, and then back at the men. “What is the pay you expect to get from this?”

“We aren't -” Bryant began.

“Thirty silver,” the Imperial said.

“I can double that and all you have to do is walk away,” I said.

Vilkas looked at me disapproving. 

“Come on man, we need to eat, let's just take the deal,” the nord who had interrupted said.

“We won't even have to work for it, easy money,” the Imperial agreed. 

“No, we finish our jobs,” the leader said.

“Bryant -” the Imperial began.

But before anyone could argue with him, Bryant had taken a dagger he'd stowed in his armor and thrown it at me. He clearly had no experience using it as a ranged weapon (though I doubt he had much experience with it at all) as I didn't even have to dodge the wide miss. Vilkas had shot him clean through his throat with the arrow as soon as the dagger had left his hands.

“Please, please don't kill us!” the Nord begged. “I have a family, a little girl. And Hallen here is only seventeen. We were starving, please.”

I looked at Vilkas who didn't lower his bow, his face unreadable. Finally he said, “We can take you to the farmer who hired us where you can work off your debt or go to Whiterun prison for arson. The choice is yours.”

“We'll go with you! Here take our weapons, just don't kill us,” the Imperial said.

Vilkas motioned to me to gather up the weapons as he tied their hands behind their back with some rope he kept in his bag. Once they had been tied, the two prisoners walked between us, with Vilkas and I both holding on end of the rope. We walked the rest of the way back to the farmhold as dusk settled in. The farmer took the men who had been stablehands for his cousin, assuring them they'd be treated better with him.

When that was settled he offered us a place at his private dinner table, which Vilkas accepted. Once we were seated and the meal had begun, I asked the man, “If I may ask, what was this feud over?”

“It started when my cousin, second cousin actually, Wilford and I were sixteen. He had this fat chicken, just absolutely gorgeous, and I may have butchered it without asking and ate it.”

I waited patiently for more of the story but it appeared that was it. I looked at Vilkas, whose jaw was once again tight and tried not to burst out laughing. I forced myself to not think about the ridiculous source of the feud, but rather all those who had been hurt in it since. Other farmers had lost their crops, servants had lost their lives, and all over two cousins fighting over a long-dead poultry?

When we were finished with our meal, the farmer offered us use of his spare bedroom for the night but before I could speak, Vilkas refused it, saying we ought to be headed back despite the fact that it was dark and we clearly couldn't travel much further that night. I was miffed that he hadn't asked my opinion about taking the room, but he hadn't spoken with me since that morning, so I wasn't surprised.

We were forced to make camp twenty minutes later. It was a warm night again so I laid ontop my bedroll, the blanket folded at my feet in case I needed it later. Vilkas was a few feet away from me, checking his equipment and unfurling his own bedroll.

“I'm glad I was here,” I said, staring up at the starry sky. “I mean, I have no idea how you could have handled three underfed farmhands alone.”

Vilkas growled, muttering something under his breath as he got down on his knees.

“All over a chicken,” I said, sighing. Vilkas still said nothing as he arranged his pack at the top of his bedroll as a makeshift pillow. “Still not talking to me?”

He said nothing.

“Are you really this upset over the possibility of me dating your brother?” I asked, trying to be gentle.

Finally he turned to me, still on his knees. “He will make his own choices and you have made it quite clear that it is none of my business.”

“I get that you're worried about him but do you still think I'd hurt him?” 

“Not on purpose, no,” he said, sitting down. “But it doesn't change what he is, what we are.”

“What you are isn't who you are. Farkas and I have fought alongside each other many times and he has never harmed me.”

“But he could. He could lose control.”

“Like you lost control with the vampires?” I asked.

I didn't expect Vilkas to answer that but instead he answered, “Yes.”

“They were enemies, and they outnumbered you. It's not the same as with your fellow Companions. We were trapped in a cage together for two weeks, and not once did you lose control.”

“You're wrong,” he said. “You were the only living thing in that room and I almost turned and I would have killed you.”

I took a deep breath, not realizing how close to death I had come. I felt my heart beating faster, fear filling my chest unbidden. He had warned me he was dangerous, him and his brother and the rest of the Circle. Still, though he had often intimidated me, I never once had felt unsafe in his presence. I sat up so that I was looking him in the eyes, the waning moon over our heads casting an eery glint off of his yellow eyes.

I should be afraid of him, and part of me was. But part of me had been afraid to come to learn archery, to come to Skyrim, to join the Companions. I didn't want to be afraid, and what was more, sometimes facing the fear was worth it.

“But you didn't turn,” I said.

“I was halfway there,” he said. “I wanted to kill you.”

“But you didn't.”

“It doesn't matter. I could have, I wanted to, that's what we are,” he said.

“It does matter, actions matter, who a person is matters. You could have killed me and you didn't. And you could have killed those farmhands instead of walking them back to that farmer and you didn't. So stop being so difficult,” I said, lying back down.

“I didn't kill them because you didn't want me to,” he said. “The job wasn't to babysit them. They got innocent people killed.”

“I didn't say I didn't want them killed.”

“You're not that hard to read.”

“Right,” I said. 

If I wasn't so hard to read then why couldn't I get a good grasp on myself? Was I warrior? A thief? Something in between? And what about Farkas? I still couldn't get a read on my own emotions about whether I felt something more for him, something worth risking our friendship over. Vilkas seemed to believe he had me completely figured out but how could he when I had been wondering what I would have said to Farkas's date proposal all day?

Vilkas laid down on his bedroll finally. “We can't change what we are.”

“That's ridiculous. People change all the time,” I said.

“I  _ mean _ about being werewolves. There's no cure,” he said.

“Then learn to live with it. It's not who you are, it's just one part of you.”

Vilkas didn't say anything, before asking. “So, do you have feelings for my brother?”

“You already asked me that,” I said.

“And you never answered.”

“You didn't let me answer.”

“You're avoiding the question.”

I laid in silence for a moment, wondering what the answer to that was myself when I saw a flash of movement in the dark. I sat bolt upright, Vilkas following suit.

“What is it? What did you see?” he asked as he began to stand.

“I'm not sure. I -” 

Before I could finish the sentence, as if I had an extra sense, I felt the path of the dart in the darkness, I threw myself in front of it, stopping it from hitting Vilkas though it pierced the back of my neck instead. I fell forward into Vilkas's arms, my vision already dark.

“Run,” I whispered before I fell unconscious.


	45. The Contract

I awoke with my hands tied behind my back, sitting in an old wooden chair. I appeared to be in some abandoned and partially run-down shack. It appeared to still be night time, though if it were the same night I'd been shot I couldn't tell. Directly in front of me not five feet away, Vilkas was slumped over in a chair held by chains made of silver. He was facing me, his head resting on his chest. The dim light burning overhead casting shadows over his face, his dark hair draped around him.

“Well, here we are again,” said a voice I found unpleasantly familiar.

The Dark Brotherhood – in particular – the Breton woman who I had punched in the face. She appeared at Vilkas's side, standing inches from his chair. Her dark outfit, molded to her every curve, revealed nothing save her eyes today. Subtly I tested the knots and rope strength, my daggers already having been removed. Unfortunately, it seemed that the woman had done a good job disabling me and I was unable to escape.

“What do you want?” I asked angrily. “Is he -”

“He's alive, for now. I dosed him higher to account for his...condition. I may have also added silver to it so he shouldn't wake up for the time being.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I told you already I don't want to join the Dark Brotherhood.”

“That's too bad,” she said. 

Suddenly she was behind Vilkas's chair, her fingers in his dark hair, lifting his face up. In her other hand she held a short, curved blade to my shield-brother's neck. 

“Stop!” I screamed. I pulled against the ropes holding me as I desperately wished Vilkas would wake up, that he'd find a way to escape.

“I can't. You see, there's contract on his head, I have to kill him,” she said.

“So what? You want me to join or you kill him?” I asked, hating the fear in my voice.

“Not just him,” she said. “We will kill each of them, one by one.”

“Why?” I asked.

The woman put down her blade and let go of Vilkas. His head fell down heavily onto his chest but he didn't stir. She grabbed something in the twin's lap that I hadn't noticed before, a piece of parchment. 

“This,” she said, bringing it up to me so I could read it.

On the paper was a list of every Companion at Jorrvaskr as well as the servants and those who worked there. Vilkas's name was the top of the list along with Skjor and Aela. 

“This is the list provided to us by the Silver Hand. They did the Black Sacrament for each one of them, and promised a hefty price if we would take the contract. It seems that your wolf friend here and two of his buddies have been busy taking out some of their bases the last couple of weeks and they aren't too happy about that.”

“You can't do that, it would – you'd start a war. They wouldn't let that stand,” I said.

“You assume we couldn't kill them all in one move? That's possible. It's possible we would never catch all of you at a feast and happen to slip poison into your drink or food. It's possible one or more of you would discover us, coming after my family. But the thing is, we wouldn't be the ones starting war,” she said. “It would be the Silver Hand or your friend here. And who knows, by the end of it maybe we would all be dead and that guild of weak Vampire mercenaries and their underlings would sweep in. But we're still under contract.”

“There has to be a way to stop this. Don't take the contract,” I said.

“There is a way to stop it. Join us, we give you the Contract, and you decide what to do with it.”

“I can't do that,” I said. “You want me to be a murderer, to just kill without question?”

“You enjoy killing, a good fight, a stealthy and lethal blow. Do not deny it. I've watched you over the last few weeks. But you continue to deny your gifts,” she said. She slowly made her way back around behind Vilkas, lifting his head slowly and placing the blade at his throat. “But you still resist. So do the noble thing, save your wolves, stop a war, and join us.”

“Why? Why go through all this to recruit me?”

“You also owe the Dark Brotherhood for Grelod. You stole our contract. You join us and we can rightfully claim a member of ours completed it.”

“That's it?” I asked. “You're willing to risk a war so that you can claim you murdered one old woman? Just claim it! You don't need me to join for that.”

“It's a matter of pride, and it isn't just that.”

“What is it then? Why won't you leave me alone?"

“Because you're all that's left of Amalia, and I don't plan on losing you again,” she said.

“Amalia?”

“Your mother, my sister. She was one of best leaders the Dark Brotherhood as seen, and still so young. But fate took her from me, took you both from me. My poor baby sister died without ever getting to hold you.”

I shut my eyes, painfully. I wanted to deny it, deny that my mother was a member of the order of assassins, that she not only killed for money, she did so for the enjoyment of watching her victims die. Maybe there was more to her than that, but I would never know now. All I had was the word of her “sister,” a woman who would ask me to murder innocents so I wouldn't be forced to watch her kill every last one of my friends.

“So you're my aunt?” I said, my voice sounding small, opening my eyes once more. “An assassin?”

“Yes, just like you. You may call me Nadine,” she said. 

I shook my head. “I'm not an assassin.”

“You have your mother's skills.”

“I'm nothing like you think I am.”

Nadine shrugged. “It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you come home to where you belong. It will all fall into place after that. Or I can take the contract myself and slit this wolf's neck. Which is it?”

I watched her slide the blade lightly across his neck, just a few drops of blood trickling from where it touched. I had been forced to join the Companions to help keep a promise to Jared. I had been forced to join the Thieves Guild to avoid death and to help save Brynjolf and his guild. And now, to save the Companions who had come to be my new family, I would have to become a murderer. Or I could let them the die, starting with Vilkas.

It wasn't really a choice.

“I'll join you.”

The woman, Nadine, removed the blade from Vilkas's neck. Though I couldn't see it because of her mask, I could tell that she was smiling. 

“Good. We'll be in touch.”

Then, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind me and I screamed, looking at my aunt who stood in front of me, arms at her side, as my vision slowly faded.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I awoke on a bed, groaning as I rolled over. My eyes opened to see Farkas staring at me with wide, concerned eyes. Quickly I sat up, taking in the room around me to realize that I was lying on his bed. I tried to remember how I had arrived here, but all I could recall was the shack, a blade to Vilkas's neck. Had that all been a dream? Had the entire mission been a figment of my imagination?

“Vilkas? Where is he?” I asked. “Is he alright?”

“He is still resting. Whoever took you must have wrapped him in silver which has made the poison slow to leave his system,” Farkas replied. “He will be fine in a few hours.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, realizing that everything, including my joining the Dark Brotherhood, was real. I sat up, burying my face in the palms of my hands as I felt the first few tears of anger and pain hit. I had almost gotten him killed. No matter how far I ran from my past, it was determined to catch up to me.

“It's alright,” Farkas said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Do you remember anything?”

“I – I remember jumping in front of a dart aimed at Vilkas and then waking up here,” I said. “I don't know what happened.” The lie came too easily. “How did we get here?”

“Whoever kidnapped you left you outside Whiterun's gate, or whoever saved you from them,” Farkas said. “The guards found you this morning.”

I attempted to stand. I needed to see Vilkas, to make sure he was alright for myself. But my legs quickly folded under me and I fell back onto the bed. Farkas stood quickly, gently pushing me back down and pulling the blanket over me. 

“You need to rest, the poison is still affecting you. I'll let you know if Vilkas remembers anything when he wakes up,” Farkas said, rubbing my forehead before leaning down to kiss it. “Get better, Everlee.”

Farkas stood, shutting the door behind him and I knew there was no use in trying to leave alone. I would simply collapse back on the floor. So I turned over in the bed, which caused a ruffling sound within my shirt. I looked within an inner pocket to see a folded piece of parchment within. It was dark brown, and once I had opened it I saw a black hand in the center of it. At the top it read, 'Welcome Sister' and at the bottom 'soon.'

I closed my eyes, crumpling the paper up, wishing it had all been a nightmare.


	46. Poison

The poison made its way out of my system completely in the next two hours. It had caused a fever, and nausea, so the first thing I did was slip from my room and go to make myself a bath. I burned the Dark Brotherhood note in the fire, staying long enough to watch it crumble to ash.

After I washed I found myself standing outside of Vilkas's room. I hadn't spoken to Farkas again so I didn't know what his brother's condition was or what he remembered from the night before. I wondered if he'd listened to my warning after the dart hit me and how far he got if he did.

Finally I worked up the courage to knock on his door. I heard some deep rumbling response I couldn't make out and then silence. I was still deciding whether I should knock again or turn away to leave when the door opened.

He looked awful. He was wearing loose black trousers and no shirt which allowed me to see all the impressions the silver chains had made along his arms and chest. His shoulders were hunched and he leaned against the door-frame heavily, seeming to need one hand to support himself. He was covered in sweat, the black hair falling around his face damp with it. 

“Vilkas,” I breathed in. I grabbed his arm, putting it around my shoulder before leading him back to his bed. He didn't even fight the gesture as he sat back down. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -”

“It's fine,” he said. “What did you want?”

I sat down on the bench near his bed, my hands folded in my lap as I stared at them a moment before returning my gaze to him. The silver had left deep red impressions on his skin, burns that looked painful to the touch, which I assumed was why he wore no shirt. I felt my heart sink looking at him, those marks were my fault, I may as well have branded him myself. 

Suddenly I wanted to confess everything. I wanted to tell him how my reason for journeying to Skyrim to find out more about my father had twisted into the nightmare journey to discovering my birth mother was a guilded murderer. I wanted to tell him I had joined the Thieve's Guild, that I had an aptitude for being sneaky that I didn't want. That sometimes my heart quickened the moment before I took a life, the seconds it took to swipe a blade over a neck or into a heart, that it made me feel alive in an exhilarating and horrifying way. I wanted to tell him that though it was his skin that burned when silver touched it, that I was the true monster.

But instead I said, “I'm sorry.”

He watched me steadily, his sharp eyes looking over me. I thought he would ask me what I was sorry about, and I felt that if he did I truly wouldn't be able to stop myself from spilling all my secrets. Maybe there would be some way to stop the Dark Brotherhood and the Silver Hand before anything could happen.

He didn't ask why though.

“I couldn't leave you there,” he said.

“How far did you get -”

“Not as far as I would like to say,” he said. He looked away from me, staring at a tapestry on the wall for a moment before looking back to me. “I have no memory from the time I was carrying you away from them to waking up in this bed. Do you know what happened?”

I pursed my lips, shaking my head. 

“That is strange,” he said. “Why someone would capture us and release us in the same night. Or perhaps it was another party that intervened. But that seems unlikely given that they left us announced outside the city without alerting anyone or calling for aid. Whoever left us here had something to hide.”

I still said nothing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice uncommonly gentle.

I looked up at him, realizing I had been looking at my hands again. I laughed hollowly. I took a deep breath, an old habit to deal with stressful situations. “Vilkas,” and I almost told him everything again. “I'm just...I'm just scared.” I breathed another shallow laugh. “I guess that makes me a milk drinker.”

He didn't say anything and I smiled and stood up to leave saying, “I'm glad you're ok. Relatively speaking.”

“Wait,” he said. I turned back to him and he nodded to the bench and I sat. As though struggling with the words he said, “Why are you scared?”

“Well, some of us have this thing called fear and -” I began, trying to joke.

“I know what fear is,” Vilkas said. “I am asking what is causing yours.

I shook my head. I hated lying and there were times I knew that Vilkas could see right through me.

“You could have died,” I said. “And I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. Whoever took us out did so easily. And they must have had a reason and I fear what that reason is, of not knowing what it means.”

It was true enough. Vilkas could have died and if I hadn't agreed to their offer I would have been forced to watch. While my – while Nadine – had given me her reason for wanting me to join the Dark Brotherhood, I had a feeling that there was more to it than some sort of bloodline calling. And I still had no idea what my joining would entail for me, what misery my future might hold. I was scared of my choice, of how easy it had been for them to manipulate me into making it. I was afraid of what else I might do.

“You are no more responsible for what happened than I am,” he said. “The Circle is investigating what happened as we speak.”

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that it was my fault. The Dark Brotherhood claimed the Silver Hand put out a contract on his life, on the Companion's lives, but I couldn't trust the truth of that. They could easily have lied to me and everything that had happened would be on my head alone.

Then I remembered that she had told me that Vilkas had been taking out Silver Hand bases when he'd been away. The truth of that would give Nadine's story weight.

“Where were you when you were gone? What is that you and Aela and Skjor were doing?” I asked.

Vilkas's face hardened. “That's Circle business, not yours.”

“Is it? It didn't seem like you discussed it with your brother or Kodlak before leaving,” I said.

“What we discuss is not always privy to you newcomer. It isn't your business.”

“I think it is my business. I don't think it's a coincidence that whatever secret adventure you were on caused a several-hour meeting the night you came back and that we were kidnapped the day after on a quest over a chicken. I think the three of you are putting us in danger, and I think you in particular risked my life by gambling that whatever you did and choices you made would have no consequences.”

I knew it was wrong, to push him so hard. The anger in my voice was real, though I knew I wasn't really angry with him. That even if he had killed the Silver Hand, they were no better than bandits or murderers themselves, that he could not have predicted that ridding the world of them would mean forcing me to join the Dark Brotherhood. But it did mean that, and I was angry that I had been forced to do that. And I knew that, like me, guilt was an easy thing to trigger in him and that it might get me the answers so that I wasn't going into the situation blind.

“That is a lot of assumptions for claiming to know nothing of what happened,” Vilkas said.

“I have nothing to do but assume since you're choosing to keep your secrets despite the fact that we both know how doing that can get someone killed,” I said.

I pressed the guilt down that welled up within me at those words. Vilkas had his secrets, but I had at least as many, and I didn't like the truth in what I had said, how saying it had made me a hypocrite.

Vilkas, however, didn't seem ready to divulge any information, just continued to glare at me.

“Whoever captured us used silver chains on you. Do you think that was a coincidence? How many people know about the nature of the Circle?” I asked. 

Still he said nothing.

“Was it the Silver Hand again?”

He said nothing, his face giving nothing away. But I saw the way the way his arm muscles tensed ever so slightly and nodded. 

“It is them. You're hunting the group whose one member had ties so powerful that he sent a small army to kill us, to kill me. And instead of being honest about it, you're risking all of us for some vendetta,” I said.

“What we are doing is no concern of yours,” he said, again.

“Right,” I said, standing to leave.

With my back turned on him, standing at the door, he said, “Our fight against the Silver Hand is not some personal vendetta. Regardless of our history, they are thieves and murderers and we rid the world of them. That's what Companions do.”

My hand rested on the door handle. For the first time since joining the Companions I felt as if I were not one of them. I had struggled with my abilities, my entrance into the Thieve's Guild. But I had always felt like I was, at my core, a Companion. I had chosen them on my own, joined them first. 

But I was a thief. I was a murderer. I was what the Companions fought, how could I be one of them and be those things?

_ We rid the world of them. _

Did that include me?

I said nothing as I opened the door and left.


	47. Not-So-Alone Time

I spent the next several hours training, making sure whatever effects the poison had on me didn't linger. Farkas came to tell me that Vilkas was awake and ask how I was doing but I gave him short answers until Jared had come up to ask him to help train which I took as my sign to leave. I had almost told Vilkas everything before he reminded me that I wasn't one of them, not really. And if I had almost told his brother about what was going on, I knew I wouldn't be able to resist spilling everything to Farkas. Until I got a grip on the events of the day before I knew that I would have to keep my distance.

The Circle members were sparse that day, likely discussing the Silver Hand and our kidnapping. Everyone else seemed fairly unconcerned with this secrecy, sure that whatever plans they were coming up with would come out in time when and if they needed out help. Ria appeared to be avoiding me and I wondered if she'd heard about Farkas wishing to have a romantic evening, something he had thankfully not brought up again.

But I knew it was only a matter of time, so I gathered a bag, deciding I would go out and gather some herbs for Arcadia.

“Where are you going?” an angry female voice asked.

“I'm running away to join the Bard's College in Solitude,” I replied, turning to roll my eyes at Njada.

“Do you have a job? We haven't gotten one all day,” she said, ignoring my remark.

“No, just gathering herbs,” I said. “You're welcome to -”

“No thanks, milk drinker,” she said, turning away from me once more.

“You're going to collect herbs?” another voice asked before I had been able to leave the hall. 

Instantly my muscles tensed: Farkas. 

“Yes, since there wasn't anything to do. And I just -”

Before I could say 'want some alone time,' Farkas interrupted me.

“Let me travel with you, just in case,” he said. 

“I'm sure I'm capable of defeating a few plants,” I said, jokingly.

“We don't know if whoever was after you and my brother are still out there,” he said. “Please, let me go with you. Just in case.”

_ Oh they're still out there _ , I thought. Still I couldn't muster up the will to fight with him so soon after his brother so I simply nodded and we headed out together.

“Vilkas is still recovering. Aela says he should be better by nightfall,” Farkas said, no hint of worry in his voice.

I nodded, unable to say anything more. We exited the city gates in silence, as I was unable to come up with any topic of conversation that wasn't panic-induced fear over the Dark Brotherhood or questions about his romantic inquiries the day before.

We spent nearly an hour in silence before Farkas sat down on a large, light grey boulder. We were in the middle of a clearing where wildflowers grew. Not far in the distance was a camp of peaceful giants and mammoths. Their size unnerved me but so far they hadn't bothered us and Arcadia had promised to double the reward for these particular flowers which had some anti-undead undead properties.

“What's wrong shield-sister?” Farkas asked. “You've been acting strangely since you spoke with Vilkas.”

“How'd you know I spoke with him?” I asked.

“He told me. What happened between you and him?”

I sighed heavily. “It's my fault. I lost my temper and accused him of putting me in danger without telling me the truth.” I explained the argument and my theory about the Silver Hand.

Farkas nodded thoughtfully. “He didn't mean to put you in unnecessary danger.”

“I know that, Farkas. I'm just frustrated with the situation,” I said. 

The note with the black hand came to mind and I accidentally snapped the flower's stalk instead of gently wiggling its roots from the ground as Arcadia requested. I sighed, sitting down on the ground.

“So, I know you are from Cyrodiil,” Farkas said. “And they court differently over there.”

My face instantly heated up, and I was glad I wasn't directly facing Farkas as I began to blush. Only an hour in and he had managed to hit on two subjects I had wanted to leave Whiterun to avoid. The large Nord came to sit down beside me, folding his legs under him.

“I – probably,” I said. “Everyone here seems to do things differently. How does one...court...in Skyrim?”

“You go the Temple of Mara,” Farkas began.

“That's in Riften right?” I asked.

He nodded, smiling at me. “Yes. You then purchase an amulet of Mara which indicates that you are looking to marry.”

“M-marry?” I said. “Is there no in between stage?”

Farkas shrugged. “Yes and no. Life can be rough here,” he said.

“I've noticed.”

He smiled at me again, before lifting his head and looking out over the field before us, the mammoths lazily moving about in the distance. “There are those who stumble upon love, like Njada and Athis.”

“I wouldn't let them overhear you say that,” I said.

Farkas laughed. “They still keep it a secret but they are together now.”

“How can you tell?”

“They have stopped taking quests apart from one another and I overheard Athis requesting quests near Riften this morning,” Farkas said. “I think he intends to get an amulet to see if Njada is interested in marriage.”

I coughed. “I can't imagine Njada getting married. Do you think his plan will actually work?”

Farkas shrugged, but then smiled at me, “I hope so. Njada has been happier since she recognized her feelings for him.”

I tried not to take that as a pointed comment, sure that Farkas wasn't the type to hint at something he could be straight forward and say, but it still couldn't help but feel like those words applied to me. Was it possible I was not only confused about my feelings but actively resisting them? Was I still simply confused about my own feelings, unable to sort through them with the events of the past few months? Or was it possible that I simply didn't see Farkas as more than a friend?

In all the stories I had read as a child, people fell in love suddenly or so slowly they didn't realize it until it was almost too late. I tried to picture Farkas as the male protagonist in those stories, see our friendship from a storybook stand point. It was true that I laughed more when I was with him, smiled easier. Those were sings of love in books, but they were also signs of friendship, something I had sorely lacked in my life before Skyrim.

It was then that I realized I'd been staring into his large yellow eyes, similar and yet very different than his brother's. I blushed, and looked away, coughing.

“So, a person goes to the Temple of Mara and gets an amulet and then what? Someone sees it and proposes marriage?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Is this typically like Athis and Njada who are already – um – obviously interested in each other or with anyone?” I asked.

“No, Athis getting the amulet is like Athis, not typical of the normal way courting is done. In affairs that happen on their own, when two people aren't looking for love but find it, a person would skip getting the amulet and ask the person if they wanted to marry,” Farkas said. “I don't know why Athis wants the amulet.”

I laughed. “Because I think Njada intimidates him the way she does everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“She can be forceful. Ok, that's not exactly what I want to say. She can be a bit brutal at times with her words,” I said. “I imagine he's afraid that she will say no and is testing the waters. Maybe he hopes that if others are interested in him and the amulet, she will want to commit. Or it's possible that he knows she'd rather be the one to take the relationship to the next level,” I said.

“Njada clearly cares for him. He shouldn't be insecure about that,” Farkas said. “But if it is to allow her to take control, then that is good.”

I smiled at him. Then remembered what he'd said. “So, if this amulet isn't typically used between couples who are already involved, what is it used for?”

“Friends, acquaintances, strangers interested in marriage,” Farkas said.

“Strangers?” I asked, my voice sounding shocked.

“They would likely get to know each other a bit first, talk about what they want in marriage and see if their goals are compatible,” he said. 

“So it isn't about romance?” I asked.

“There can be romance. It depends on what the couple wants,” he said. “Life can be short here and we are a practical sort. If one is ready to get married and have a family, the amulet allows them to signify this.”

I laughed in disbelief, shaking my head. On a practical level it made sense to me. So many of the men and women I met had been so busy working, and so straight-forward, that I could imagine there was less time for flirtations and long-courtship. The only time Nords seemed to let loose, tell stories, and engage in revelry were on special occasions or over a round of ale (often both). In good times I had heard there were many such fun gatherings, but in times like today, with the dragons and civil war added to the people's concerns, I could see how there would be less time to find a partner.

And wasn't it good in a way? Knowing what you want and being able to discuss it openly with that person before entangling your emotions. I looked at Farkas. What did I want in a relationship? What did he want?

“So what are you looking for Farkas?”

“From you?” he asked.

“No, just, in general. From life. What are you looking for in a partner, what do you want in your future?” I asked. 

He smiled at me, and I forced myself not to look away from his honest gaze. “I want a family,” he said. “One day I want to have pups of my own, teach them how to fight, watch them play in a large yard.”

“Will you still be fighting, still be a Companion?” I asked.

His grin widened. “Of course. I will always be a Companion,” he said, pointing to his heart. “But I think one day that they will not need my help so much.”

I turned away from him, enjoying the warm breeze against my face. It was strange weather as autumn was just around the corner, stranger still to happen in the this northern country, but I was enjoying it. I closed my eyes, trying to picture Farkas outside some cottage being chased around by three dark haired children half his size. 

“I can see that for you,” I said, opening my eyes.

“What about you? What do you want?” he asked.

I thought about my future, what I had thought it was before I had come to Skyrim. “I guess what I thought my future would be was to live with my mother, at home in Cyrodiil, learning magic at her side.”

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I never much thought about what I wanted life to be like. I always did what my mother expected of me until I picked up archery and sword fighting. But even then, I never really thought I'd get work with it and when I tried and failed well...I just sort of accepted that she was right.”

“You sound like a citizen of Skyrim more than you think. We believe we forge our own destines, but so often tradition forces us to go against our dreams,” he said. 

I looked over at him, his unexpected view taking me off guard. Still, he was smiling gently at me, seemingly unperturbed by his sad observation. 

“But you are changing your destiny,” Farkas said. “So now that you know you can do something else, what do you want?”

I had never thought about it. I tried to picture myself back in the life I thought I was destined for but couldn't see it. Even if I ever got the opportunity to return to Cyrodiil, to the mother that raised me, nothing would be the same. My father's identity was shrouded in secrets, my birth mother was an assassin, I had an ancient ability to fight dragons, and what was more, I had learned what it meant to have friends, friends who felt like family. And what was more, I had changed since coming here.

Did I want to stay here? Stay in Skyrim? The land at times still seemed strange and foreboding. But I couldn't imagine leaving Farkas, and Brynjolf, and everyone else I had met behind. And I couldn't picture any realistic way of kidnapping them all to travel outside their homeland's borders. They all had established lives here. 

If I stayed, then what? Did I want a long career, fighting until my last breath? Did I want to settle down, pick up a less dangerous trade than “dragonborn?” I remembered how it had felt to care for Lynn, to be close to her. I could picture it back then, picture leading a mundane life. 

But that was before I knew about my past. It was before I joined the Thieve's Guild and become an assassin. It was back when the murder of one evil old woman had caused me so much guilt and confusion that I had gotten physically ill. And as much as I wanted to believe that part of me was still that woman, I knew I wasn't.

Maybe it was possible to retire as a Companion, to put down my blade. I didn't doubt that putting away my thieving days was something I was capable of either. After all, they didn't murder anyone, had specific rules against it, after all they weren't the Dark Brotherhood.

But I was. Even joining them had cast a dark, fearful cloud about my future. They had gone through great lengths to recruit me, would they ever let me leave? I couldn't imagine an easy way out of leaving the Dark Brotherhood, a way to unjoin. And even if I could, even if they let me go, what about the things I would have to do for them until then? They would follow me around forever, possibly break me. Or worse, I would become one of them, able to compartmentalize killing people I didn't know so that I didn't feel guilt or shame or horror at the notion. And then there was always the worst scnario: that I would come to enjoy it.

“I still don't feel as though I have control over my future, Farkas,” I said, quietly, not looking at him. “After everything that's happened, sometimes it's hard to picture life after this, of living through all of what's ahead. Or of being myself when I get to the other side of it.”

His large hand touched my face, his rough fingers warm and gentle on my cheek as he turned my head to look at him. 

“You are going to make it to the other side, alive. And I will make sure that you come out as you,” he said. Then, smiling gently. “I will remind you of who you are.”

I sighed, allowing myself to lean into his chest slightly as he put an arm around me. “You're a good friend, Farkas.”

“So are you Everlee. You are the first person to know I'm a werewolf and you weren't afraid of me. Everyone is afraid of me. That's how I know you are a good person, that you have a good heart. You saw me for me,” he said.

I smiled, letting my muscles slowly relax. Maybe I didn't know how I felt about him romantically, but I knew that for the first time that day I was able to breathe and not feel the fear gripping at my chest at the thought of joining the Dark Brotherhood. I felt in my heart that I could tell Farkas what had happened and he wouldn't judge me, wouldn't hate me for the path I had been forced to take. I felt that he would accept me anyway, that if the rest of the world hated and hunted me, that he would be at my side even then.

And at that moment, he was exactly what I needed. 


	48. A Friendly Proposal

The rest of the day was fairly peaceful. Vilkas still wasn't ready to take dinner in the meadhall that night, so that was one less thing to worry about.

The next day I had one job which had been to knock some sense into a man who didn't understand that "no means no" when it came to romancing a farmer's daughter. The woman, around my age, was very grateful and had invited me to stay for lunch, which I had accepted before taking the short walk back to the city.

Just inside the gate I saw a man inquiring about which way it was that he could find the Dragonborn with the Adrianne who I still occasionally requested dagger orders from. She gave me a pointed look over the man's shoulders and I shrugged, indicating I didn't know what he was there for and giving her permission to point me out.

She nodded toward me and the man turned around. He was short, even shorter than me, and carried a sturdy leather pack on him. Despite his apparent youth it looked like he was one of the traveling messengers sent between cities (most younger messengers were typically kept within one city to deliver and didn't travel between them).

"Letters for you miss," the boy said.

I gave him some coin as he handed me three letters. I turned over the first and thought about opening it on my walk back to Jorrvaskr but then decided better of it and decided to get some privacy first. I was able to sneak into the meadhall fairly easily as I'd decided to wear the generic light glass armor I had Arcadia make weeks before. My Thieves Guild armor was still suffering from my first (and so far onlly) task I'd completed for them.

While my heavy armor was a familiar and comforting feature of my adventuring days, I'd been finding that I was developing a preference for light armor, for the flexibility it gave me to strike and dodge quickly and if I were in need to be silent or sneaky, it was useful for that too. Unlike Farkas, I hadn't developed the unnatural ability to be go unnoticed in heavy armor, at least not in the day when everyone was wide awake. Still, I felt vulnerable in my light armor even though the safe test run had proven successful.

I walked down the stairs and opened the door, checking the communal sleeping area non-Circle members shared and hoping that it would be empty mid-day like it usually was. Standing in the doorway I saw that no one was around luckily. Not so luckily, before I could enter I saw Vilkas turn into the hall and I hesitated enough for him to take notice of me.

"Everlee," he called, his authoritative voice demanding my attention. He looked like he just took note of my armor. "You're not wearing your armor. Was it damaged?"

I shifted my weight, fiddling with the letters in my hand. While it was somewhat common for Companions to wear light armor, it was typically seen as the weaker choice unless one was hunting game, something I wasn't known for doing.

"No," I responded.

"Then why aren't you wearing it?"

"No, I just thought that perhaps light armor suits me better," I said matter-of-factly, daring him to make some comment about me being weak or foolish.

"It does," he said. I tilted my chin to the side, trying to determine what he meant by that. "You're small and fast. Heavy armor never suited you."

"I'm not that small compared to normal-sized people," I said, indignantly.

I watched the right side of Vilkas's mouth twitch upward before he cleared his throat and said, "Regardless, that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. You completed the job Kodlak gave you this morning?"

I nodded. I remembered how that morning had been the busiest in some time, each of us being given a job to do. I hadn't seen Farkas or any Circle member except Kodlak.

"Good," he said.

We stood in silence for a moment and I began fidgeting again. "Is that all? I can complete a simple task."

"Of course you can, but with recent events, I was -" he started but stopped abruptly. Straightening up, "It is good to see you've arrived back so soon. I also wanted to talk to you about -"

"Wait, were you worried?" I asked, unable to stop the grin off my face. Now that I knew that he wasn't questioning my basic ability to complete simple quests (such as three farmhands or a jilted love interest), I found myself amused. "I mean, after all those times you sent me to kill giants, assuring me you did so because you lacked utter faith in my ability to come back to bother you, you're worried now?"

My tone was teasing and as Vilkas's muscles tensed further I bit my lip to try to keep from grinning. "I always had faith in your skills and I sent you to fight giants to improve them."

"And maybe for your own amusement?" I asked.

Vilkas pressed his lips together and I could tell he barely managed to stop smiling and keep his face stoic as he said, "That too."

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" I asked.

"I wanted to address what you said yesterday," Vilkas said, his voice serious and I felt the jovial mood fade as suddenly as it had come. "You said that I risked your life unnecessarily."

I shifted under his gaze, stopping him before he could get any further. "I was wrong. I was just upset and -"

"No, you were right. Being a Companion means that one is capable and honorable, that we have each other's backs as shield-brothers and sisters. I think that sometimes I may...let my own feelings about you get in the way of my better judgment," he said.

The last sentence repeated in my head, vague enough that I couldn't immediately determine what he meant by that. Which feelings did he let get in the way? His irritation toward me in the beginning? His feelings about my friendship with his brother? Was he saying that he put me in danger because he thought too highly of me? Or was he referring to some other feelings? I couldn't get a grip on Vilkas, perhaps only his brother could read him the way he read others.

"Still, I know you wouldn't deliberately put me in unnecessary danger," I said. "I was wrong. Like usual, I guess."

He breathed out a hallow laugh. Then his sharp eyes caught mine and held, my hands stilling. "I think you may be wrong about that," he said quietly.

Again I couldn't figure out what that was supposed to mean. The context seemed to be that he believed that he had risked my life two days ago unnecessarily despite me assuring him that it hadn't been the case. But the way he had said made it feel as though his words meant more than that.

"Vilkas! You're up and walking," Farkas said cheerily as the door opened behind me. "And Everlee's back, good. We can all have dinner together." We both turned to look at Farkas who was smiling broadly. "Do you need help up the stairs brother?"

"I am perfectly capable of climbing the stairs myself," Vilkas said, exiting the door and beginning to climb the stairs.

"You coming?" Farkas asked.

"Not yet, I have some letters I want to read first and then I'll be up," I promised.

Farkas smiled before turning to catch up to his brother who, if it had not been for his slightly slower pace, really did not appear to be troubled by his injuries as he climbed the stairs.

Finally I entered the common sleeping area and sat down on the small desk against my bed. The first letter was from Lynn, the letters drawn large and wobbly:

_ Everlee, _

_ How are you? Constance has been teaching me to read and write and helped me write this letter. How is Jared? I have been saving money to get him a birthday present. Will you bring me to visit him for it or bring him here to visit then? I miss you both. _

_ How is his training? I know he can be a good Apprentice but do you think he will be ready to fight then? He never fought much when he was living in the orphanage. Tell him I said hi. _

_ I haven't seen much of Brynjolf lately. I think he has been out of town. He came to visit me once a couple of weeks ago though and I asked about you. I think he likes you. _

_ Lynn _

I grabbed a piece of paper and writing utensil and began writing back immediately, a smile on my face.

_ Lynn _

_ I'm glad to hear you're doing well and that Constance is teaching you to read and write. I will make sure that you see Jared for his birthday. His training has been going well and I have no doubt he will have enough Companions to vouch for his apprenticeship position. He has grown quite a lot in the last six months and has grown taller than me (as he keeps pointing out). I'll be sure to tell him you said hello. _

_ Missing you too, _

_ Everlee _

I had hesitated before finishing the letter. I wanted to tell her a bit more about my life here but I found it hard to think of anything to say that wouldn't worry her. And as for her mention of Brynjolf I couldn't imagine any way to respond to such a weird (to me) notion.

I had almost forgotten Jared's birthday in all the excitement of the last two days. While he had only been training for half a year, he showed promise. I wasn't sure how much skill he would need in two month's time or what test they would make him pass to join them, though. I doubted he would be given any real jobs, mostly training and cleaning swords and making deliveries for the Companions from what I understood, but it still worried me to think of him committing himself to them for six years.

I felt guilty thinking that. They were like family to me and I knew they would do whatever it meant to protect their charge from harm even when I wasn't around, but with the concept of war hanging over my head with the Silver Hand, I wasn't so sure. When Nadine had showed me the Contract, his name had been absent. That would change in two months and I didn't doubt the Silver Hand was above murdering a child.

But I couldn't mention any of that to Lynn, so I opened the next letter.

_ Dear Everlee, _

_ I'm sending a letter to you with Lynn (she insists hers have her own envelope however). I miss having you around Riften even though you were only here for a few weeks. I have hired new people to help me work with children and placement and have set up a new orphanage in Solitude. If you see any children that could use our help, please make sure they find their way to us. _

_ I told you before you left that I would tell you if there was any interest in adopting Lynn and I am happy to say there has been. I took some of my children to visit some of the nearby orchards and a couple who owned one of the farms took a liking to her. I have done an interview with them already and they seem very nice. I promised you that I would let you interview them first, however. They own Golde Apple Orchard just seven miles northwest of Riften and I told them to expect you soon. Please let me know if you are unable to visit them. Their names are Hannah and Jacob. _

_ You should come visit us when you interview the couple. I'm sure Lynn would love to see you and I would like to catch up with you as well. Hoping to hear from you soon, _

_ Constance _

I leaned back in my chair. I was happy that Lynn had potential parents, that someone had saw in her what we had seen in her. It was big news and I knew that I would have to request the time to visit them soon. As far as I knew, no one had been sent to Riften this morning so it was possible I could pick up some minor jobs they might need done in that area as well.

It would be good to return to Riften. I could see Lynn and hopefully bring her good news about a new family. I could stop by the Thieves Guild to see if there was any way my armor could be fixed or replaced and it would be good to see Brynjolf again and get an update, if he were there. Even the possibility of having to face Mercer didn't seem so bad in light of the positives.

I had one letter yet to read, and hoped that it would be from Brynjolf, perhaps information about the symbol-person who had been threatening to destroy their – our – guild.

When I opened it, however, there was a black hand. Underneath were the words:  _ Come to the stables at midnight. _

I let my head fall onto my chest, my eyes closing tight.

"Everlee, are you ok?" Ria asked, and I opened my eyes. "Did you get bad news?"

"Oh, uh, no. Just tired. Good news actually. They found a potential family for Lynn," I said, folding up the letter.

"That's great!" she said. She went to sit down on her bed which was at the foot of mine. "So I heard you and Farkas went out the other day. How was your date?"

"I went to collect flowers for Arcadia and he decided to come with me after what happened," I said. "It wasn't a date."

Even as I said it I wondered: was it? It had been my task and I had completed it but did Farkas think it had been a date? What exactly did dates in Skyrim consist of? Not that I had any experience with dates outside of Skyrim but the fine dining and fancy dresses that suited Cyrodiil didn't seem like something I could picture the citizens of this land indulging in, especially not Farkas.

"Good. I mean..." Ria said.

"Ria, do you have feelings for Farkas?"

I watched her body still suddenly, her eyes unfocused on my bed which lie in front of her. Finally she moved, here gaze slowly coming up to meet mine.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she said. "But nobody knows about it and I'd rather it stay that way."

"I won't say anything, but no one else has noticed?"

"It isn't as though Farkas and I are around the others a lot and he's often busy. Circle members don't often take the same sorts of quests they give the rest of us so we don't always get a lot of time together."

"How long have you...?"

"A few years," she said. "He really helped me when I joined, really believed in me. I didn't really fit in with Njada and Athis and Torvar and so I mainly kept to myself and focused on quests until he started including me."

"And you never thought to tell him?"

"No, I didn't think I needed to. I think I assumed he felt the same way I did. I knew he was cheerful and happy toward everyone but I was the only female he spent so much time with and I thought...well I guess I misinterpreted things because he came out and told you he had feelings for you didn't he? I should have figured that's what he would have done," she said.

I got up, tucking the letters into my armor and sat down on my bed, facing her. "Maybe he has trouble telling what he's feeling for someone," I said.

"I think you're confusing him with you," Ria said jokingly. "No offense."

"None taken. But he told me himself that he didn't know how he felt about me until Vilkas talked to him," I said.

"Vilkas? His brother told him to ask you out?" Ria asked, completely confused and in disbelief.

I laughed. "No, the opposite actually. I guess he made Farkas aware of his feelings by warning him not to get involved with me."

"What? Why?"

I kept my face calm and steady, barely. The reason Vilkas didn't want his brother and me to get entangled was because the were werewolves. He was afraid I would hurt him by making him love something he would never truly have and that Farkas in turn would hurt me because of the beast within himself.

"Overprotective," I said. "And he's never much liked me."

"I noticed that," she said. "He's always been sort of standoffish but it was different when you joined. But he seems to be ok with you now mostly."

"Yeah," I said, but my mind had wandered off.

I thought of the Dark Brotherhood, of the Thieves Guild, and Vilkas's statement about what he and the rest of the Companions did to thieves and murderers. He had only just begun to treat me with less contempt, to accept me in his own way. What would he do if he found out the truth?

"I've actually never seen him talk to someone outside the Circle as much as he does to you," Ria said. "Strange, actually."

"It's because he liked to torture me, but I'm wearing him down," I said, attempting to snap out of my thoughts. "But we were talking about you. Maybe if you told Farkas how you felt -"

"And then what? He likes  _ you. _ He's nothing if not loyal so if he still thinks he has a shot with you then he won't even consider me. It will just make things weird," she said. "Unless you told him you just wanted to be friends. Then maybe I could tell him how I felt."

I could hear the eagerness in her voice. She was clearly picturing that, hoping that I would step down and that her whole conundrum with him would be solved. And part of me wanted that, felt guilty for allowing my friend to sit on the sidelines hurting. I still wasn't sure how I felt, had only known him for half a year. But Ria knew how she felt about him, had known for years and I couldn't blame her for misinterpreting the situation. I wasn't good at figuring out others' romantic intentions myself.

But then I remembered sitting with him in that meadow, the way I had felt at peace sitting beside him. I felt safe with Farkas, whole. I didn't feel like my involvement with the other guilds was a threat or a betrayal when I was around him. I wasn't a Companion or a thief or a murderer, I was just Everlee, somebody he cared about. What if I did have feelings for him? What if I walked away because of fear or uncertainty and passed up the relationship of a lifetime with my best friend?

"Ria...I...I don't know," I said.

"Exactly. You don't know, and I do," she said. "Please."

I looked her in the eyes. This wasn't right, what she was asking, even if it did make sense in its own way. But telling Farkas I only wanted to be friends was a lie of sorts, I didn't know that's all I wanted. And what of his feelings? I could hurt him, even lose him as a friend if I wasn't careful, and there was no guarantee that Farkas did or would feel the same way about Ria.

"I think you should tell him how you feel," I said. "Let him decide how he feels. We aren't actually dating yet so it wouldn't be disloyal for him to consider his options."

"You know he won't!" Ria said, the usually calm Nord's voice rose.

"I don't want to hurt him."

"That's not a good enough reason to lead him along."

"I'm not leading him along!" I said, getting angry myself now. "I just don't know what I want yet."

"Well I do," Ria said.

"Even if I told him that I only wanted to be friends, it isn't as if he's the sort of person who would suddenly develop feelings for someone else," I said.

"You don't know him that well. And you said earlier that maybe he had feelings for me and didn't know it," she said.

"I doubt he'd be more aware of it while he was hurting over me turning him down."

Ria shook her head, angry. She sat still for a minute, looking down at her bedsheets. Finally, still without looking at me she said, "You're right. But Farkas knows he likes you and he knows he wants to be with you. So you should figure out what you want and act on it soon or you'll be the one in my shoes."

With that she got up and left. I took a deep breath and headed toward the Meadhall. It was going to be a long night.


	49. Departure

“You're leaving?” Farkas asked. “Tonight?”

We were sitting in the meadhall over dinner after I had talked to Kodlak about my needing to do some errands for the orphanage and my friends in Riften. He had agreed, giving me a couple of jobs that were not time-pressing. 

I saw Vilkas's head tilt in my direction, though his eyes remained on his plate. 

“Yes,” I said, explaining the letter I had received. 

Farkas smiled, “I think it is good that you're keeping your promise and that this girl has someone like you to look after her. Would you like me to travel with you?”

I made sure my smile stayed in place as I said, “No, I think I need to do this on my own. I hope to come back just before Jared's birthday with Lynn then so you should get to meet her.”

“You will be away for two months?” Vilkas questioned, his voice sounding disapproving.

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep my irritation out of my tone. “Kodlak already approved it. I left Riften a bit quicker than I had planned and I have some business I would like to settle.”

“Milkdrinker,” Njada coughed loudly.

I took a deep breath, rolling my eyes. 

“It seems foolish to leave tonight rather than wait until morning,” Vilkas said.

I turned my attention to him. “I'm taking a carriage so I should be fine.”

“Like when you first came to Whiterun?” Vilkas asked, irritation in his voice.

“Yes, as long as no one chooses to antagonize a giant and lose track of it right outside the city,” I replied, equally annoyed. Vilkas was now glaring at me.

“Be careful, Everlee,” Farkas said.

I looked back up to Farkas sitting beside me and smiled, “Don't worry, I will be. I will write you if I am delayed.”

Not long after that I gathered the bag I had packed. I reached under my mattress and grabbed the lockpicks I had obtained since Brynjolf had left, debating on whether to take them. I figured it might be necessary given that I was going to the city of thieves, and stashed them in different places in my armor, taking a moment to admire how seamlessly Adrienne had made the hidden compartments using the fine material.

“Hey,” a soft female voice said.

I looked up to see Ria standing hesitantly in the doorway. “Yeah?” I asked.

“I really am sorry about the fight earlier,” she said. “I'm just stressed and I took it out on you.”

“I understand. And Ria, I really do think you should tell him,” I said, laying my hand on her shoulder.

“Tell what to who?” another voice asked and we both turned, startled to see Farkas standing just behind her.

“It's nothing,” I said quickly, adjusting the weight of my pack. “Well, I'm off.”

Farkas came over and hugged me, saying softly in my ear, “I'll miss you. Be safe.”

I nodded, hugging him in return before pulling away from him. I decidedly didn't look at Ria as I wished them both goodbye.

I climbed the stairs, debating on what I would do until midnight arrived. When I stepped outside, darkness had already fallen. I took a deep breath. I had trouble believing I had entered this hall only six months before, it had felt like a life time ago. I was nervous to be leaving because, despite all the dramatic events that life as a Companion had in store for me, it felt safe here.

I felt a hand on my right arm, turning me to face someone. I saw Vilkas, his back to Skyforge as he faced me. 

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I already told you,” I said, feeling my heart speed up. I shrugged off his arm.

“No you told my brother the story you gave to Kodlak,” he said. “I want the truth.”

“That is the truth. I have the letters if you want proof,” I said, reaching for my pack.

Vilkas grabbed my hand, watching me steadily. After a moment he let go of his grip and I let my arm fall to my side. “You need to come back, whatever happens.”

“I'm not running away.”

“Just make sure whatever is you're doing is something you can come back from.”

The double meaning of those words made me suspicious, fear building within me. I kept my face expressionless as I searched his for any hint that he knew about my involvements with the other guild but saw none. It seemed my story and departure time had triggered something in the naturally suspicious man. I wanted to assure him that he was wrong, that I was in no imminent danger, that I was doing exactly as I said. I wanted that to be true. But it wasn't. 

So I said, “I'm coming back.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say something, leaning toward me. But then it seemed he thought better of it and quietly entered Jorrvaskr. I shut my eyes, focusing on keeping my breath steady to still my fast-beating heart. 

When I had gotten a grip on myself, I left the city.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I ended up walking about the city, patrolling it as I left. I had informed the city guard that I would be gone for some time so they would be aware in the event of any dragon sightings or attacks. Finally, just before midnight I went to the stables. I saw the carriage out but no horse harnessed to it as no one had apparently decided to schedule a journey that night which was unsurprising as travel was safer and faster in the day and thus the night fees tended to be high.

As I made my way toward the back of the stables I made sure to keep an eye out for any of the stablehands or the owner of the stables. I was also keeping my eye on any shadowy figure lurking in the dark as I kept one hand on the hilt of my longsword.

“You there, Dragonborn,” I heard a familiar voice grumble. 

In the dark just ahead by the stables I could make out the face of the carriage driver who had escorted Jared and I to Whiterun. At first I assumed that he must have been tending to the horses, that perhaps one was sick. But I had a bad feeling about him that almost caused me to draw my blade on him.

“I haven't seen you here recently,” I said.

“I took a break from the carriage-driving business after our last encounter,” he said. “You needing a ride tonight?”

With pure instinct, I felt someone behind me, as if their tiniest motion gave them away. I quickly dodged from their grasp, backing up as I did. I looked for my attacker but they had receeded into dark shadow before I had managed to turn, their form completely hidden now. I continued to back up, toward the road, trying get far enough back to get them both in my sights. 

“Go, run!” I said over my shoulder to the man. “Get help.”

“But I don't really need help,” the man said. 

Somehow he had managed to sneak up on me, grabbing my arm, and attempting to wrap his other arm around me from behind but I dodged the hold. I saw now that he was wearing what seemed like impossibly dark armor for-fitted to his body which was more athletic than I would have guessed from when I had seen him in commoner clothes. 

I tried to slip my arm free but I only managed to pull it a few inches out away before he tightened his grip causing pain to shoot up my arm as I cried out. He was stronger than I could have thought, inhumanely strong. His light brown eyes seemed to flash at me as he doubled his strength on my arm, causing me to fall to my knees. I tried to push up but it was impossible with his leverage and if I continued to resist I knew that he would soon break my arm.

And then there was a gloved hand from behind me pressing a rag to my mouth. I couldn't even attempt to scream for help before I fell unconscious. 


	50. Sithis, Let Me Test Her

_ Veezara _

He waited until he felt her body go limp in his arms before gently lying her on the ground. There were days like today that he felt as though he would never fully understand the land and people of Skyrim. When he was born under the sign of the Shadow his people had given him to the Dark Brotherhood, to fulfill his destiny as Shadowscale. Long ago he had learned that was not the way of the people in this land, their destiny was not fated at birth. Yet Nadine seemed convinced that this woman had been born to the Dark Brotherhood, as he himself had been.

If that were not odd enough, the young woman had agreed to join the Dark Brotherhood, had already proven an aptitude for stealth and killing. He did not understand why they had to capture her for the third time and he was starting to suspect that it was some odd family tradition of Nadine's.

“It is done,” Veezara said, his green eyes still focused on the female at his feet. “She should sleep for an hour.”

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Arnbjorn said gruffly. Leaning down, he hesitated before picking her up, wrinkling his nose. “She smells weird. Must be the wolves she travels with.”

Easily and roughly, the large Nord picked up the small half-Breton, pulling her over his shoulder. They made their way over to the carriage where his brother put her body into the cart without ceremony. 

“Get her fixed up, I'll get the horses.”

“Is this necessary?” Veezara asked. “She is joining our family and will know our location soon enough.”

“That's not set in stone. Astrid still wants to meet her first. Honestly I can't see what all the fuss is about over the tidbit. Hardly seems everything Nadine made her out to be,” he said.

“She came here willingly,” he said, keeping his stance calmly. “It is unlikely she would have resisted coming with us if we had explained -”

“She isn't one of us yet, so stop treating her like it,” the man growled. “Just do the job. What's with you tonight?”

Veezara nodded and the the wolf turned from him and back toward the stables where he'd somehow manage to coax one of the horses to come with him despite his beast blood. The argonian thought about the man's question. He did feel that he was acting not himself tonight, that the nature of this woman's joining did not sit well with him. He had always felt at home with his family, had never questioned his destiny or his place among them. Consequently, he had never questioned the jobs he'd been given: until this one.

He would be happy when the business was done with he decided as he began focusing on the task at hand. It would take Arnbjorn some time to coax the horse to do his bidding, more than enough time for him to make sure that the woman would not be able to escape when she woke up. He climbed into the back of the cart, gently pulling her further in and turning her over. He began checking her armor first, pulling out a surprising number of ingeniously hidden daggers and lockpicks in addition to her swords, bow, arrows, and pack. 

He saw one lockpick hidden, nearly invisible so that even he with his diligence he had almost missed it. He ran his hands along the craftsmanship of her armor that hid the pick so well. He had heard Nadine speak of her nearly constantly when she had been at the Sanctuary (as had everyone whether they wanted to or not). She had seemed to almost burst with pride when telling them that she had picked up stealth and lockpicking with no assistance, quickly coming to pick moderate-leveled locks. 

Veezara's green eyes looked over to see that his brother was still trying to soothe one of the dark brown horses at the stables. He looked back to the girl, curious if the stories about her were accurate. He held the rope in his hand that had been placed in the back of the cart for the purposes of binding her and back to the pick in his hand. 

The argonian gave one last look at his brother before dropping the rope and tucking the lock back in the compartment at her back. Reaching into his own pack he brought out a pair of cuffs, bright silver and ingeniously made. The lock on them was surprisingly sophisticated, atypical of most cuffs, and likely more difficult than the budding thief before him had ever attempted before. Swiftly he clasped them to her wrists.

_ Sithis, let me test her. If she can escape, then I will accept her as a worthy sister, one who does not need to be bound. If not I will follow the orders of my family and let them decide. _

Veezara then took the blindfold and wrapped it around her eyes.

“Is the tidbit tied and ready?” Arnbjorn said, leading an uncertain-looking equine to the front of the cart.

_ We shall see,  _ Veezara thought. But he simply nodded as he moved to the edge of the cart to close off the back so that no unlucky traveler might spot their package in the night. 

“Let's get this over with then,” the Nord grumbled.


	51. The Road to Sanctuary

I awoke to the familiar feeling of a slow and steady carriage ride. I could feel the wooden texture where my hands were pressed up against the side wall and hear the creaking of the wooden cart and wheels but I could see nothing, a blindfold over my eyes. My hands were handcuffed behind me but I realized that at least I was in my own armor still. I forced myself to sit up, trying to calm the fear that was causing my pulse quicken.

“I said I didn't need a ride,” I called flippantly.

“Consider it payback for the ride with the giant,” the carriage driver called to me. 

“Are you with the Dark Brotherhood?” I demanded, trying to get a better idea of my environment without arising suspicion by keeping him talking.

I felt no sun on my skin and it was still cool so I assumed it was still night. My muscles weren't stiff so I doubted I had been out long. The last time they had kidnapped me (it was odd to think this was the third time I'd been taken and left unharmed by the group of murderers) I had been stiff for some time until I had stretched some of the soreness out. I listened carefully, remembering the hand over my mouth before I passed out. I needed to know if that person was still with us, in the carriage. But I could hear and sense nothing. Still I couldn't shake the feeling that he or she had to be nearby, even if I couldn't get an idea of where they were.

“Do I seem like I enjoy carting around tidbits for pocket change?” the man asked. “It's too bad about that Contract. The coin for completing it was impressive for a bunch of bandits, even if the job itself was tricky.”

I thought of Vilkas with a blade to his throat and felt my muscles tighten. I took a deep breath, trying to loosen them. I needed to look inconspicuous if I was going to check my armor for any mistakes my captors had made. I doubted that they would have left anything lying about the cart with which I could break the lock on the handcuffs, so I had to hope that the new armor had kept some of its secrets from them.

“I told Nadine I would join, why all the secrecy?” I asked. “I came out here willingly didn't I?"

“Your aunty isn't our leader tidbit,” he said. “So until the final decision is made about you joining us, we're going to keep our secrets.”

I thought about that a minute. I had assumed that when I had agreed to join the Dark Brotherhood that that was it. I had never considered the fact that there would be any test, any dissent on the matter. Why else would they work so hard to get me? I had never considered that the entire mess had been concocted by Nadine. 

I had struck out with Mercer when we had first met though Kodlak had seen something in me. What exactly was it that I would need to be or do to prove my worth to this leader? And what would happen if I failed? Would they kill me on the spot? If so what was the blindfold for? If I was approved I would be one of them, if I wasn't approved then I would be dead. No need for secrecy. 

“Why bother?” I asked finally. “If I don't pass you're going to what? Let me walk away?”

It was then that my fingers found what they were looking for: a secret pocket that had not been found by my captors. Carefully I reached in and retrieved the pick, slowly and quietly maneuvering it to the lock on the cuffs. Instantly I felt my heart sink when I realized that the manacles weren't standard. One wrong move and my pick would break or I would be discovered. I started to gently feel out the mechanism but the more I learned the harder I realized that this was going to be: far harder than anything I had attempted previously, and I was blindfolded.

“We start down the list. Your name is last,” the man said, surprising me with an answer that sounded truthful. 

Still it was an unusual tactic. They had me at a total advantage here. I was weaponless, in their home base, surrounded by their members. Letting me go would be bad enough if I didn't know their plans. I was Dragonborn, skilled, and I had resources I could pull from multiple groups. It would be insane to let me walk out of there when I could easily warn my fellow Companions of what was to come and gain the advantage. Unless they had some other plan.

“So you've got a second plan? There's no way you'd let me reach the Companions with my knowledge,” I said. 

“I'm not here to give away the entire scheme, tidbit,” he said. “Just hope that Astrid sees something in you that I do not.”

My fingers stopped working on the lock as I let that sink in. I had planned on getting free so that I could demand to know where I was going, so that I wasn't completely at their mercy and could prepare myself for joining this new guild of mine. But now I was reconsidering. Whatever their other plan was would have to already be set up or almost set up, ready to go at a moment's notice. If I surprised them, if I could escape and foil their plans, they may not have enough time to react

But if I was wrong and fled, and they could complete their plan without me, the Companions would all be dead. Even if I stopped whatever their strategy was, we would be at war. I would be risking everything on the chance that I might not be accepted. 

I continued to pick the lock.

“Who was with you earlier?” I asked. “Where are they now?”

“You ask a lot of questions tidbit,” he said.

“My name is Everlee.”

“Don't take it personal tidbit. You all seem alike to me.”

I wasn't sure what “all” he was referring to but I stored that comment for later. We rode the next hour in silence and I tried to not get frustrated at the lack of progress I was making on the lock. I thought about giving up on it. If I was accepted to the Dark Brotherhood and could prevent the deaths of my shield-brothers and sisters, did it matter if I had been dragged there blind? And there was the possibility that freeing myself and ruining their plans would prevent that possibility entirely.

But in the end, it gave me something to focus my mind on that wasn't the possibility that the lives of my new family hung on my head tonight. When I was focused on attempting to get the mechanism to bend to my control, I wasn't thinking about becoming a contracted killer, about lying to Brynjolf about my involvement with the Dark Brotherhood, about a blade being held to Vilkas's throat while I was helpless to do anything for him. 

Unexpectedly, the lock clicked. It was almost completely silent, and the shock and joy that came with it got my blood pumping. Adrenalin filled my veins and I acted without thinking: flinging the device from me with one hand and ripping the blindfold off with the other.

But the minute I could see, there was an Argonian leaning over me. In one hand there was a dagger at my throat, not close enough to be threatening, just a warning. The other hand's fingers were wrapped firmly around my right shoulder, keeping it pressed against the side of the cart. The carriage abruptly came to a stop, Arnbjorn cursing. The two of us sat completely still as I looked into his bright green eyes. Our breathing was silent, our muscles poised and ready to strike should the other make a move. It was then that I realized he  _ knew _ what I had been up to, had been waiting, likely inches from me, to stop me from action. But if he had known what I had been doing, why let me continue to use the pick at all?

“Damn it, I thought you said you'd taken care of this tidbit,” Arnbjorn said, returning with the cuffs I had thrown from the cart and sitting them in the wagon. “Just strip her armor this time and use the ropes to tie her up. No shoddy work this time.”

The argonian blinked quickly, the first movement either of us had made. He leaned back, slowly, his left hand dropping from my shoulder though the dagger remained inches from my throat. His eyes stayed on mine, warning me that he was prepared to use the blade if I changed my mind and decided to move now that his position was more relaxed.

“No,” the man said, his voice smoother than the typical Argonian's. It had a calming quality to it that seemed to disarm him even as he held the blade to my throat wearing the armor that indicated he was a professional assassin.

“No?” Arnbjorn asked, irritated and incredulous. “We have orders.”

“This isn't necessary,” he said. “She will be accepted by Astrid and has skills that will be beneficial to us.” Then he directed at me, “You are coming willingly?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

It may not have been much of a choice, but I had not been forced to meet the assassins that night. I had come of my own free will, as much as the convoluted situation allowed me to retain.

“That isn't the job. If she isn't accepted and she knows where we are it will ruin everything Astrid has worked toward,” Arnbjorn said.

The argonian's eyes still hadn't left mine. “Do you mind wearing the blindfold?” 

It didn't take long for me to consider the options: resist the blindfold and escape which could wind up with many lives lost (possibly my own first), refuse to wear the blindfold and be tied up again wearing nothing but my small clothes, or wear the blindfold.

I nodded.

“Don't move,” the Argonian said, gracefully picking up the blindfold from my side before slowly putting down his dagger. In a quick motion, he tied the blindfold around my eyes once more. “This ruins no plans.”

“Keep your blade trained on her,” Arnbjorn growled as I heard him climb back up onto the driver's seat.

When we started moving again I heard the green-tinted Argonian sit down across from me, no longer keeping his movements as silent as they once were. 

“Who are you?” I asked.

“That can be a complicated question,” he replied, his voice holding the same even-toned calmness it had throughout the confrontation.

“I meant what's your name?”

“I am Veezara, a Shadowscale, the last Shadowscale,” he said.

“A Shadowscale?”

“I was born under the sign of the Serpent, as are you I am told,” Veezara said. “But where I come from it is more than lore. We are Shadowscales, given to the Dark Brotherhood at birth to be trained in the ways of the assassin. I worked in the service of the King of Blackmarsh until my order was no more. I work for Astrid now and am happy to do so. Life is simple and good.”

“Astrid, is he the leader of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim?” I asked.

“Yes, she is,” he said. “She has led us for many years.”

“And Astrid, she doesn't approve of Nadine recruiting me?” 

“She does. It was on her order that Grelod's death was investigated, ordering that whoever had committed the crime be recruited or eliminated.”

“Then why didn't anyone come after me sooner when I escaped?” I asked. “It's been over six months since then.”

“Arnbjorn was to take you that first night in the city to join us, that is why he was with you. We did not want the child alerting anyone of your absence, especially not your Thieves Guild ties. However, you stayed with the Companions, which made the task considerably more difficult,” Veezara explained. “The job was put on hold for some time while the notion of recruiting you was discussed.”

“We didn't want the Companions noses in our business,” Arnbjorn called.

“So you waited and then the Contract for the Companions fell in your hands and you found an easy way to recruit me where I wouldn't tell them about you or my involvement with you,” I said.

“Yes,” Veezara said quietly. “But we had been watching you. You have shown the typical signs of being born under the Serpent.”

“Being born under some stars or who my parents are doesn't determine who I am, what I am,” I said.

“Doesn't it?” Veezara said gently.

“No.”

And I did believe that. I knew that your parents could influence you, that sometimes fate found a way to mold you into someone you might not have been. But I had never known my parents, I had been raised by a mage, my mother, as I knew her, was a law-abiding woman. Even with her, I had chosen my own path: that of the warrior instead of the mage. My choices, my will, made a difference in my life. Farkas had reminded me of that.

Still there was the fact that I was undeniably good at stealth and killing. Then a thought struck me: if my mom had been the leader of the assassins, who had my father been? Did I want to know? The whole reason I came to Skyrim, to discover more about my father, could be at my finger tips now, even if I was afraid of the truth that awaited me.

We traveled the rest of the way in silence and I got the feeling that was how Arnbjorn preferred it. When we stopped Arnbjorn called from the front, “I'm going to get the beast stabled. You two wait here until I get back.”

After a moment when I heard the sounds of a horse retreating, Veezara said, “I get the impression that he doesn't trust me with you anymore.”

I laughed, exhausted. “You're apparently far too lenient in your treatment toward voluntary prisoners.”

“Is that what you are? A  _ voluntary _ prisoner?"

I wanted to snap at him,  _ why does it matter? You got what you wanted, I'm here, whether I want to be or not. _ But instead I said, “In the loosest sense of the word, yes.”

“The calling in your blood will settle your fears in time,” he said. 

_ How would you know? You've known nothing in your life but killing.  _ I kept my face smooth, however, feeling I had already given far too much away to the smooth-talking Argonian who would slit my throat if I moved without being told. 

“Alright, time to move out tidbit,” I heard the Nord-man say again after some time had passed. He climbed onto the cart and I cried out as I felt myself rise, slung over his shoulder.

“Is this necessary?” I asked.

“Unless you prefer to be dragged by your hair, yes it is,” Arnbjorn said. “We've got a short walk but I don't need you stumbling over your feet blind. Wasted enough time already.”

The next five minutes we traveled in silence. I could hear the leaves underneath Arnbjorn's feet as he wasn't attempting to move quietly at all. I couldn't place where Veezara was, if he was still with us, as he seemed to move silently unless making some conscious attempt not to. The only information this gave me was that we had likely traveled south, into the forests somewhere. The land to the north had long ago been made into farmland and there were few trees there and thus it was unlikely we had stayed in the heartland of Skyrim. North was mostly frozen wastes though I heard Solitutde and the western part of the country was an exception but I doubted we had traveled long enough to go there.

Finally we stopped and then there was the sound like rock rubbing hard against rock. Then a foreboding voice that sounded like the last breaths of a dying man asked, “What is the music of life?”

I felt goosebumps form on my arms and barely suppressed a shiver. If Arnbjorn noticed, he said nothing.

“Silence, my brother,” Veezara said, his calming voice somehow making the entire interaction more bizarre.

The voice wheezed out, “Welcome home.”

And I shivered as Arnbjorn slung me down and turned me around, giving me a slight push to walk across the threshold of my new guild. I walked carefully into this mysterious place, Veezara's slim fingers on my shoulder guiding me inside, before pulling me firmly to a stop.

“Wait. Do not take another step,” he said. 

His hand did not leave mine until I heard the door slide shut once more. Without another word, the Argonian took off my blindfold to reveal a set of steps below me. Arnbjorn had already begun his descent. 

“Follow me, I will take you to Astrid,” Veezara said. 

I followed him down several sets of stairs into a large, open chamber where a group of people stood, all wearing the armor of the Dark Brotherhood. Arnbjorn was with them and at once they all turned to look at us as we entered. They stood in a little enclosure, leaning casually against walls, their eyes following me like the thieves' had when I had threatened Mercer, like they would all kill me in a heartbeat if I made the wrong move.

Veezara stopped walking, standing near a dark elf woman who had been standing apart from the rest of the group. I continued to stride toward the group.

“Which one of you is Astrid?” I asked them.

“I am,” said a voice from behind me.

I turned to see a beautiful woman walk into the room with a natural confidence I had lacked when approaching the assassins now behind me. Her blonde hair was held back but even in the dim lighting it shone. It took me a moment to realize that behind her, a large smile on her face, stood Nadine. 

“And you must be Everlee, Amalia's daughter,” she said. 

Like Veezara, her voice had a smooth, naturally calming tone to it. Her voice sounded almost as though she were purring when she spoke. She came to stand a few feet in front of me, looking me over but not making it a point that she was. Nadine came to stand at her side. 

“You do look like her,” she said. “But are you ready to follow in her footsteps?”

She sounded as though she were talking to herself, so I remained silent as she continued to look over me. 

“Hmm,” she murmured to herself. “Nadine didn't say you were the silent type. It works for you. Follow me.”

I followed Astrid out and back up the stairs where she led us to a room that branched out from one of the halls connected to it.

“Now that we're alone, tell me, do you want to join the Dark Brotherood?” Astrid asked.

I stayed silent for a moment, wondering if that was a trick question. I didn't want to join the Dark Brotherhood and my resistance both with Nadine and on our trip here must have made that apparent to anyone who knew the whole story. But if I didn't join then I would risk watching my friends murdered until I was all that was left. My desire to not join her Guild hadn't really been a factor in my decision and she must know that.

“Be honest with me, we are to be sisters after all,” she said.

I tried not to cringe at thought. I couldn't imagine ever coming to think of the assassins as family like I had come to think of the Companions. They were my family, my mother at home in Cyrodiil was my family, but the people who prided themselves on ending life and had kidnapped me multiple times? I would never come to see them as family.

“I think you know the truth,” I said finally. “I don't have much choice in the matter.”

“Of course you do. We all have choice,” Astrid said. “Even not choosing is a choice.”

“Then yes I do want to join in that I don't want people I care about to die,” I said.

“And neither do I,” Astrid said. “These men and women are my family, Everlee. We look out for each other and we are content. Your mother and I were close too, young though I was. She is the one who sought me out and brought me here. I would have done anything for her, as I would the rest of my family. I think that we have that in common.”

I said nothing, letting my cool facade drop and folding my arms over my chest.

“Nadine wants you to join us and I did request the same of the person who murdered Grelod. But instead you became a Companion and then a thief and you join only out of a sense of duty to them. If word got back to your Companions about us, about our location, our identities, my family would be in danger. I need to know that you are loyal to me,” she said.

Again I stayed silent for some time, unsure of what to say. She wanted me to convince her that I would not betray her, to begin to form some sort of trust between us. But she could not trust me because I wasn't here of my own will, and I could not trust her for the same reason. The only way to prove that I would stick to our original deal, that I would join them and keep their secrets, was with time. How could I convince her now that I was not a threat when I could see how much of a threat I would be in her eyes. 

And she wanted me to see through her eyes, to somehow identify with her. She wanted me to believe that this group was a family, that they cared deeply for each other, that they, like the Companions would die for each other. But I couldn't see how a group of assassins who cold heartedly killed and often  _ enjoyed _ killing could form any sort of real bond with another person. 

_ But I enjoy fighting, enjoy winning a battle. Vilkas can turn into an unthinking beast and slaughter an entire stronghold of vampires. Brynjolf steals and lies to make profit and still I trust him and he sees his fellow thieves as family. Maybe there is a way for the assassins to separate what they do from who they are with each other. _

She had said that we were alike and not just because I shared some skills that I did not want. Maybe she didn't care about her fellows as more than a means to an end, and maybe she did. Would it be easier for me to buy that she truly cared about her “family?” Would it make joining easier?

“Whether I want to be or not,” I said finally, “we both know I am a threat to you and your friends. You say we are alike, that we would do anything to protect our family, and if you believe that then you know I would never jeopardize their lives if I could avoid it. Nobody would benefit from a war between the Dark Brotherhood and the Companions. As long as that doesn't happen, I can promise you my service and my loyalty. Only time will tell the rest.”

Astrid took a moment to consider this before finally standing straight and saying, “Then welcome, sister.”


	52. Bad Tidings

Astrid then gave me an overview of the Dark Brotherhood and their operations as well as told me the location of the Sanctuary I was currently in. She then handed me the Dark Brotherhood clothes and told me to attempt to wear them whenever completing a contract, even if under my normal attire. They felt extremely light, even lighter than my Thieves Guild armor had been or my new glass armor though I felt the glass armor mentally made me feel more protected. I stored the outfit in a pack they gave me.

“See Nazir for some smaller contracts until I line up something larger for you. That is, assuming you still do not want to act on the contract from the Silver Hand,” Astrid said. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is yours you can choose whether to act on it or not. All other contracts we give you are expected to carry out. Understood?”

I nodded as she handed me the sheet of paper with the Companions' names on it. It looked like it was only one page of a longer set of instructions which she appeared to be keeping but I said nothing, not bothering to ask who Nazir was or why I wasn't being handed the rest of the Contract for fear of saying something I would regret. I had almost been in with the Thieves Guild before I had angered Mercer the first time we'd met.

I walked back down the stairs, looking for Veezara to ask him who this Nazir person was and where I could find him. The crowd that had been gathered earlier had departed and the only person I could see was Arnbjorn working a forge off to my left. 

“So my sister's daughter is now my sister,” said a voice just behind me.

I kept my mouth shut, mentally reprimanding myself for not spotting Nadine in my assessment of the room. She came up to stand in front of me with a smile of approval. Her black hair was held back in a ponytail, her mask tied with a black cord around her neck so that it hung behind her like a hood. Her eyes were a dark brown and I wondered if my birth mother's had been the same.

“I assume you are not taking up that contract?” the Breton woman continued, nodding at my hand.

I looked to the list which began with Vilkas's name and ended in mine. I wondered at the order. I assumed that it had begun with the three who had attacked the Silver Hand most recently but why was I last? Had my identity been hard to discover or did they have trouble deciding whether the price on my head as Dragonborn would be worth the coin or consequences of having the only person able to permanently kill a dragon eliminated.

I crumpled the paper up figuring if I ever got to ask one personally it'd be the last thing they would utter. I did not want war with the Silver Hand but that didn't mean they wouldn't pay for attempting to pit the two guilds against each other while keeping their hands free of the bloodshed. I took off my pack and stuffed the Contract inside.

“No,” I said. “I don't plan on taking any Contract that ends in my suicide.”

“The list doesn't necessarily have to be completed in its entirety, if you ever reconsider,” Nadine said, smiling deviously. I didn't know whether she actually thought I would ever murder one of my fellow Companions or if she were joking. “Besides, we are not allowed to take a Contract against one of our own or to murder a member of our own family.”

“I suppose that's what keeps you alive,” I said, not interested.

“No, we are family,” she said, her playful tone gone. “I know you cannot see that now, but you will in time.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said nonchalantly, looking around. “Who is this Nazir person?”

“He's a redguard, in the dining hall now I believe. I can show you the way,” she said, leading me out of the open area.

I followed her in silence for awhile. I had given up on my quest and run from Riften in part because I wanted to avoid this scenario. I had told myself that if I stopped looking for who wrote me the letter, for who my father was, then I might never be forced to realize my birth mother was an assassin and I had a dark legacy laid out before me.

But all the reasons I had for avoiding why I had come to Skyrim were gone. 

“Did you send the letter to me, telling me to go to Riften?” I asked. 

Nadine stopped me in the hallway we had just entered to look at me. “No.”

That was an unnaturally short reply for the woman so I pressed, “But you know who did?”

Nadine's face and posture remained relaxed but I could sense that she had become uncomfortable. “Yes, and I killed them.”

“You killed them for telling me to come to Riften? Why?”

“It is dangerous for you to be here,” she said. “A lot has changed since I smuggled you out of that orphanage. The person who sent you that letter is inconsequential, a person I thought I could trust, a friend. They broke my confidence and summoned you here on the orders of someone who may want you dead. I knew this person my whole life and they sold out my niece and betrayed my trust for coin.”

“Were they a member of the Dark Brotherhood?” I asked.

Her dark eyes bored into mine, unblinking. “We are not allowed to murder one of our own and so I cannot answer that.”

“Does Astrid know?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Yes, she knows what happened. She also has the rest of that contract you stuffed away in your bag, so if you think you could use this as leverage against me, you should rethink that decision. That man, Vilkas, that I set free when you agreed to join - he is worth more than five average contracts alone,” she said.

I continued to look at her impassively though my leg muscles tightened. I knew that my situation was precarious, that my friends' lives were only safe from the assassins as long as I joined and followed their rules. But apparently it could be used against me in more ways than the original deal entailed. 

“Why exactly did you want me to join? I am not my mother,” I said.

“You are more like her than you think. You didn't know her, don't presume what she was like,” Nadine said. “But you are right. By rights when you stole our contract -”

“I didn't know Grelod was a contract.”

“I am aware and it does not matter. By rights when you stole our contract, you owed us a life. Having recently lost one of our own, Astrid said you could repay this by joining or with your death. That is one reason. The other is Amalia. The third is personal to me. I know you think we are all cold hearted because our profession is one you do not understand but that is not the case. I took you from that orphanage, posing as your mother and I smuggled you out of Skyrim to keep you safe. 

“I did this despite the fact that you were my sister's child, despite the fact that you were born under the sign of the Shadow, narrowly escaping death even as you entered this world. You were meant to be a part of my family. I risked my life to get you out of this land and kept your secret for twenty three years. I let you grow up with the most stereotypical normal Breton woman I could. And yet you still are nothing like her, like the person who raised you.

“But my confidence was betrayed and I knew you were coming to Skyrim, knew you would find some way to enter even with the borders closed. And you are not safe here. Yes, I know that you are capable, but you are only excluded from contracts if you join us. And with you close, I can keep a better hold of the situation,” she said.

“If you are so concerned about my safety, then why are you being vague about everything? You say that there are those who want me dead, but who are they?” I asked, frustrated and letting it show.

“I cannot tell you that, not yet. Not until I know for certain what their motives are,” she said. “You think you have no reason to trust me, but I kept your secret for twenty three years to keep you safe. Trust me enough to believe that I am doing what is best to keep it that way now.”

“That's asking a lot,” I said. “You forced me to join the Dark Brotherhood by threatening my friends and you want me to trust you to keep information from me that could get me killed?”

“Trust me or not, I am doing what I must, as I have since the day you were born,” she said. She pointed to an entrance down the hall, “That is the dining hall, Nazir should still be inside. I have a contract to complete and I will be gone for some time, I suggest you do not look for me.”

“Do you know who my father is?” I asked as she turned to leave. “Was he a member of the Dark Brotherhood?”

She turned to look at me but all she said was, “No.”

Nadine left me alone in the hall and I wasn't sure whether she meant she did not know who my father was or if she had meant that he wasn't an assassin. I doubted that if I had run after her she would have given me any clarity on the matter so I sighed before continuing forward into the dining hall.

At the bottom of the steps I saw two figures with their backs to me at a dining table. The Redguard was sitting down at the edge of it. The other person I recognized as the Argonian Veezara who was standing at his side discussing something with him I couldn't hear. I made no effort to hide my entrance as I descended the steps as I was sure that Veezara would notice long before I got within hearing distance of whatever conversation they had been having. 

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I went to stand beside Veezara who nodded to me in greeting. The Redguard's dark eyes turned to me, his full lips twisting into a smile.

“So you're the newest member of our dwindling dysfunctional little family? I've heard a lot about you,” he said.

“I hear you have contracts for me,” I said, not bothering to waste time wondering exactly what he had heard and from whom.

“Down to business then? It turns out I do have a few little assignments that need done. Perhaps not glamorous for someone quite so prolific at killing as the Dragonborn, but they will get you started until something bigger comes in,” Nazir said. 

“Just tell me what I need to know,” I said.

“Your targets are the beggar Narfi, an ex-miller named Ennodius Papius, and Beitild, a mine boss. When you've completed all those, we'll see if I might have some more. Their locations are listed on their contracts. Return when you're done and you'll receive your payment. They're to be done at your leisure,” he said, offering me three papers.

I reached out, my fingers folding around the papers slowly, my heart beating faster. There was something about this moment, the second I accepted my first contracts, that weighed immensely upon me. Once I had taken them, that was it, my last moment I would spend before officially becoming an assassin. I took the papers from him slowly, nodding at him, as my hand fell to my side. 

I turned away, not wishing to spend more time with The Dark Brotherhood than I had to. As I began to walk up the stairs I raised the papers to my eyes to take a look at what was written. Each paper contained at least two things: the name of the contract and their location. There were some notes as to their haunts, their last known location, their profession as well as a couple of notes on one that implied she knew something of fighting.

It was little to go on and I found myself wondering about the people behind the names. I was about to take a life out of the world, not because we were in combat or I was under attack, not to save a life or via some terrible accident. I was about to take lives because I was told to, because at the end of it I would be paid. 

“Everlee,” a smooth voice said and I stopped without thinking as the argonian caught up to me. I said nothing, waiting for him to catch up with me. “It would perhaps be wise to get advice on some of your contracts before you leave. These first ones may not require much background, but future targets might, and it would be a chance for you to get to know some of the people you'll be working with.”

I took note that he had not described them as family, perhaps already having noted how uncomfortable I was with that term.

“I – I would rather not,” I said. “And I have much to do.”

I began to walk away, but Veezara's arm caught mine, moving so fast I could not track it. His grip was surprisingly gentle.

“I know you do not feel as though you belong here and perhaps you never will. While we are family, there are those of us who still mourn the recent loss of our brother, Hahmish, and may not be so welcoming to you. It may be in your best interest to change that,” he said, his voice calm despite the implied warning.

I stared intently into his eyes. “I am one of you now and from what I understand that means I should fear no harm from one of...our...guild.”

Veezara finally let go of my hand, watching me steadily. “May you step silently past your enemies, sister.”

With that he turned away from me and I once again looked at the contracts in my hand, his words going through my head. Did he really believe that I could get close to a group of assassins that had forced me to become one of them over some polite conversation? What would I even say to them? Or was he trying to tell me something else? That perhaps this Hahmish, who had betrayed Nadine and gotten killed had friends or supporters that would still see me dead, and it best I weed them out? 

“Veezara,” I called, and he stopped, turning back to me. For a moment I stared at him in silence before saying, “Thank you for the advice. I must go now, but I will make sure to make use of it when I return.”

The Argonian once again nodded to me before walking off. I wasn't sure if I could trust him. Perhaps he really did wish to see me become part of his 'family' and was giving me friendly warning. Or maybe he was endeavoring to get my trust for some other purpose. Either way, since stepping into The Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, I had felt anything but safe.


	53. Assassination

I stood before the ruins of a house in Irvastead. It had been easy to spot along the river, the only cottage not nicely kept in this stop for Pilgrim's seeking to climb to the Throat of the World. I had gone through Irvastead myself on the way to meet the Grey Beards and knew that if I weren't careful, I would be recognized.

I arrived at the town as dusk settled in. I had stored my glass armor in my pack, glad for the ingenious collapsible design Arcadia had been able to produce. Now I wore The Dark Brotherhood armor, the design of which clinged to my body in a way that I normally would have felt uncomfortable in. But the armor was tough, more flexible even than the Thieve's Guild set Brynjolf had provided me, and utterly silent. I found myself feeling more confident and at home in the armor than I wanted to admit. Over that I wore a brown, worn cloak I had traded for in Riverwood as I had made my way around the mountain. I could have easily afforded a new traveling cloak but preferred the weathered one that pegged me as a commoner, easy to blend in. 

I took a deep breath, my heart beating faster as I stared up at the location of my first target. Part of me had already stopped thinking about how wrong it was to take a life that had not endangered my own, that had (to my knowledge) never wronged me in any conceivable way. This man had to die not because he was a murderer or a bandit but because I preferred his name to Vilkas or Aela or Njada. I was here because I had decided that their lives were more important without knowing a thing about this man or his past or his family or what he had done to wrong someone into contacting assassins. 

And maybe, maybe his life was worth it if I could prevent a war. How many lives did Vilkas alone save every week? And the Companions as a whole? I could justify it. I could justify murder. 

But I didn't want to.

Soundlessly I drew a dagger I had sharpened to make his death as quick and painless as I could. I kept it under my robes, where he couldn't see it if he managed to spot me before I saw him. As I entered, the distressed wood creaked and I remained perfectly still as a figure turned from a small fire at the back of the ruins. 

The man stood to his full height as though it pained him, like he had spent much of his time bent over. His clothes were old and filthy, falling off him from overuse and apparent weight loss. His beard was long, scraggily, and it made it hard to tell his age. His eyes squinted in darkness, his face afraid before he spotted me, a large stick of wood in his hands. Instantly his eyes widened when they took me in and I gripped the dagger tighter, prepared to throw it if I had to.

But there was no need. He dropped the wooden slab, his face brightening up and seeming more childlike than a man of his age ought to be capable of. He ran at me, enveloping me in a hug and shouting a wordless sound of joy. Shocked, I remained still in the man's arms. 

“Reyda, Reyda you're home! I knew you wouldn't leave me, sister. Not like mom and dad, not without saying goodbye,” he said, hugging me even tighter and causing my weapons to dig into my back. “They told me you died, probably fell into the river but I knew you'd come back. You wouldn't leave me. You wouldn't leave your younger brother. I came here because I knew you'd find me here. Oh, Reyda I missed you.”

“Narfi,” I said, my voice breathless. “I -”

But Narfi squeezed me tighter before letting go. “I was so lonely without you. I thought I might die here. But you came back, you came back.”

“Yes, I...” I said quietly, my finger rubbing the hilt of my dagger. “Yes, brother, I came back for you.”

“I knew you couldn't be dead,” Narfi said. “You couldn't be dead. And you're home. Come, sit with me.”

Narfi smiled at me before turning back to the fire. It was clear the poor man was out of his mind and I wondered if this had happened before or after his sister had disappeared. If I had to guess, his condition was nothing new, but his sister had taken care of him. And she had likely died and left him here to fend for himself.

“How long have I been gone, brother?” I asked, following him and sitting beside him. 

I continued to finger the dagger, wondering how I could bring myself to murder him now.

“Two months. But I knew you'd come back before winter,” Narfi said. 

“Did no one look for me?”

Narfi nodded. “I looked. And Barknar. He said you fell into the river, said your body wasn't recoverable because of the tide. But I knew he was wrong.”

I remembered that name, vaguely. A ranger I had met on the way to meet the Grey Beards. He had seemed to know his business quite well. If he had proclaimed her dead it was likely more than just guesswork.

“Narfi, what if...what if I had died?” 

“You didn't.”

“I know that, but what if I did? What would you do?”

Narfi shook his head violently. “No, no, no, no. You can't die. You can't.” 

“Narfi -”

And then the full grown Nord burst out crying, wrapping his arms around my waist and putting his head on my chest like a child. Slowly I wrapped my arms around him, keeping the dagger from touching the skin on his back.

“You can't leave me, please. I don't want to be without you. Not after mother and father left and didn't say goodbye. I couldn't, please don't go, Reyda,” he said, crying.

“Shh, shh,” I said, feeling the guilt well up within me that I hadn't felt when thinking about the task outside. “Shh, I'm here. It's going to be ok.”

With my heart pound I quickly turned toward him, forcing the dagger into his back, to his heart, placing my left hand over his mouth to muffle his shout of pain as his wide eyes stared up at me, confused. His arms continued to hold me.

I removed my hand from his mouth as he dropped his arms. Realization came to his eyes then and he saw that this Breton woman before him was not the sister he had known his whole life.

“You're not Reyda,” he gasped.

“You'll be with her soon,” I said, my voice steady even as emotion built inside my throat.

Narfi's mouth moved soundlessly as the light left his eyes. I shut mine, tears running down my cheeks for the first time in a long time as I leaned over him, his blood on my right hand and dagger. 

“How touching,” said a female voice from behind me.

Before I could react, the person was upon me, her dagger in my side. I cried out, gasping, as she removed the blade. I turned, crying out as pain shot up my side, and slashed at her neck but she dodged. I managed to cut her cheek, a large red gash showing up before her dagger went into my thigh and I screamed, pain instantly lacing up and down my leg and abdomen. It was clear that her daggers had some sort of poison or toxin on them as tremors seized my whole body and I fell forward, into myself, dropping my dagger. 

My brain screamed at me to get up, to pick up my blade and at least take her out with me but the pain quickly became overwhelming, searing through every thought. The Nord female grabbed a hold of my hair, forcing my tear covered face to look up at her as the pain threatened to blind me. Her long dark hair fell loose around her, brushing my cheek.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Are you Reyda?”

The woman smiled, cruel. “You would be lucky if I were just some grief-stricken commoner. No, my name is Lenna, and you're the reason my husband is dead. I don't think we had the pleasure of meeting when you were at the Sanctuary,  _ sister. _ ”

I ground my teeth, as pain hit me again and she threw my head down. “I-I had nothing to do with his death.”

She kicked me and I coughed hard, my body convulsing again before I was able to regain control of it.

“Of course you did, sister. You were Amalia's precious little Shadow, a Legacy. But who were you to us, really? Hahmish was Nadine's _ brother. _ You were just some bastard she's never known,” Lenna continued, wiping off her blade as I looked up at her through the loose strands of my hair. “We were her real family and she killed him and everyone ignores it. They treat it like it didn't happen because of who your mother was. Well I knew Amalia, and she was nothing like you.”

I laughed weakly. “I tried telling her that.”

Lenna smiled but there was no joy in it, just a cold glint as she put her dagger back in her robes. “I'm glad we agree on something. It's nothing personal, really, but I have to drag out your death. Did you know there's plenty of buyers for the Dragonborn's head? Seems like you've made a few enemies.”

“Seems like it,” I said weakly, my body shuddering again as my arms collapsed and I fell the rest of the say to the floor. 

I laid there on the floor, fear flooding my body. Just behind me lay Narfi, his body growing colder by the second. I had murdered him in cold blood and couldn't help but think that this was karma making quick work of me. Maybe dying now would prevent me from becoming a monster.

“We have a few hours though, and I plan to get very intimate with you until then so don't go passing out,” she said. She roughly forced me onto my back and got down, pressing her knees into my thighs, one going right into the stab wound and causing me to scream, and she placed a hand over my mouth. “Shh, shh, that was nothing. We're just getting started.”

I shut my eyes for only a second and then heard a soft thud, feeling something fall next to me. I turned my head toward the noise, opening my eyes to see Lenna's lifeless blue eyes boring into mine, her face expressionless. I looked upward once more to see Veezara standing above me. I felt relief flood me as he came to lean down beside me, opposite of where the Nord's body now lie.

“Be still, help is coming,” Veezara said.

“Help isn't very pleased,” grumbled a low voice, entering the shack loudly, the boards under him creaking. I attempted to look up at him, but another wave of pain struck me and I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth as another shudder stole through me.

“Please Festus, it isn't as if you had anything else to do with the way Contracts have dried up,” said a female voice humorously.

I opened my eyes again when the wave had passed to look at Veezara. I tried to crack a smile. “I'm not typically this incompetent.”

“I wouldn't worry about it, dear,” said the female voice which belonged to a Dunmer who came to move the Nord's body further away from me, picking up her dagger and looking at it in the fire light. She sat it down on a nearby table and opened a pack she had with her, beginning to set up alchemical equipment. “Lenna was an expert in illusion spells. You could not have seen her coming with your magical skill.”

“Skill, hmpf,” the older man grunted, a Nord. He moved a chair noisily to the place Lenna's body had been until the Dark Elf had removed it. “You mean lack of skill. Your mother now, that was a mage that could cast a beauty of a spell. Not as good as me, mind you, but given time, given time.”

“So,” I said, looking back to Veezara, temporarily having to stop to suppress a scream. “Does Nadine always have someone follow me or is this a special occasion?”

The older man grunted but Veezara laughed quietly. The argonian said, “You laugh in the face of death?”

“Like her mother,” the female's voice said quietly. Then, more cheerfully, “I am Gabriella. I knew your mother when I was very young, she was the one who recruited me. Taught Lenna this poison too, I believe. It's ingredients are hard to discern from tests. Luckily, she taught it to me as well. It should take twenty minutes, so try not to die until then.”

“She said I had a couple of hours,” I said, my body shuddering.

The man snorted, “Arrogance. Lenna was never as good at alchemy as she thought, she always left that to Hahmish. He was ok at it, for a Khajiit. I'd say you have maybe a half hour, hour tops.”

“Jee, thanks,” I said, pressing my lips together tightly as another wave of pain came, faster than before.

“Festus, can you slow the progression?” Veezara asked, his voice sounding genuinely concerned.

The man, Festus grunted, before saying, “I'm no healer but I can give her a few extra minutes. As long as Gabriella gets the antidote ready in time.”

“Old man, you know I am more than capable of that,” Gabriella said lightly.

Suddenly my body began to convulse. Somewhere I was vaguely aware that two hands were pressing my shoulders to the floor as I screamed. Suddenly I felt warmth hit, and the pain eased. My body fell to the floor, suddenly limp and I took a gasping breath, sweat pouring from my brow.

Of all the ways I had thought I would die, surrounded by assassins had always seemed a likely option. Surrounded by assassins desperately working together to keep me alive, however, had never crossed my mind.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked Veezara as Festus continued to pour healing energy into me. “Why go through all this trouble?”

The old man grumbled something about being 'ungrateful,' but Veezara's steady gaze held my eyes. “You are our sister, now.”

“So was Lenna,” I said.

“She betrayed us when the blade punctured your skin. Lenna was no longer family,” he said.

“And Hahmish?” He said nothing, an uncomfortable silence descended on the trio. “Does everyone know?”

“No,” Gabriella said. “And it would be best you drop the subject.”

“Are there others? Others who want me dead because of -”

“What did I say?” the dark elf said frustrated, turning to look at me.

Festus quickly reprimanded her, “Get back to work. I'm not doing this much work for a corpse. And I'm definitely not going to hear Nadine's constant ranting if we let her die.”

Gabriella turned back to her work. Veezara removed his hands from my shoulders and I realized at that moment that he hadn't let go since my episode. Finally he said, “It is possible that Lenna spoke of her grievances to others, but as far as we are aware, she was the only one who was angry and wanted revenge. Most whom she spoke with knew the truth already and chose to remain out of the situation -”

Festus grunted something I couldn't understand.

“And those who were not already aware seem to have dismissed it as gossip, unsubstantiated,” Veezara said.

“Why?”

He hesitated. “It would mean that Astrid knew and had chosen not to act.”

“We're a family,” Gabriella said, her voice steady. “Hahmish endangered that when he betrayed a secret kept by us.”

“Still,” Festus grunted, “there are rules.”

“I know that but he gave her no choice,” she said.

“That isn't for you to decide. We weren't there,” the man replied.

“Astrid believed it, and that is good enough for me.”

The Nord grunted again but said nothing.

“You can see why this issue is problematic for our family to discuss. So I would appreciate it if you would not bring it up in future. What's done is done, and you should be safe now, sister,” Veezara said, calmly.

“Don't count your chickens yet,” Festus said.

“So pessimistic old man, you know what that does to a girl,” Gabriella said.

“Don't tease me, child,” Festus said. “I'm too old for games.”

Gabriella laughed, her voice almost melodic. “But old man, you are so easy to antagonize.”

“I'll have you know that I could light this entire village up right now if I wanted to. You should show some respect,” he said.

“And yourself in it,” Gabriella said. “You would think you had learned your lesson about that already.”

“That was over fifty years ago,” the man said.

I found myself amused and surprised by their easy banter. If I closed my eyes I could easily picture Festus as Skjor or Athis arguing with Ria or Aela. They were comfortable with each other, even as they bickered. They sounded like – like family. 

I shut my eyes and felt myself drifting into sleep, the pain present but dulled.

“Don't let her fall asleep,” a man's voice ordered.

Then a smooth male's voice, “Sister, wake up, stay awake now.”

I opened my eyes to stare into large green eyes. Alien eyes. I tried to think of a time in Cyrodiil I had ever been up close and personal with an Argonian. There were so few Argonian mages in Cyrodiil that I had only met maybe four my entire life. I noticed that within the deep green eyes were shades of brown, rich and warm.

“You nearly done, elf?” 

“You getting tired old man?”

“You know this isn't one of your experiments, this is practical knowledge. You have to be quick, think on your feet.”

“Save the lecture, old man.”

Suddenly the pain was back and I found it hard to breathe, my brain awakened by the sting of it. Veezara's hands were on my shoulders now, keeping me down as my body shuddered, twitching. I clamped my teeth together but ultimately couldn't hold back the screaming.

“By the nine she's loud,” Festus said loudly over my screaming. “Good thing I cast that silence spell over the area.”

“Keep bragging, gives me time to pass you up,” Gabriella said. 

“Focus,” Veezara's smooth voice demanded. “Both of you.”

Finally the pain died down, my voice raw from screaming. My head fell back, shivers running up and down my arms and legs as sweat poured out of me. I was overwhelmingly hot.

_I'm dying_. The thought sunk in. I was dying. Despite their carefree banter, despite their confidence, the truth was that I was dying. I was dying far from my home in Cyrodiil in the presence of strangers who knew nothing about me. I thought of the Companions, how I wished it was them here with me. I wondered what would happen when I didn't return. Would anyone even alert them to my death? What would happen to Jared? How would this affect Farkas?

And Vilkas, I had promised Vilkas I would come back. I felt my chest tighten with emotion. I could still remember the way his yellow eyes had bored into me, leaning down and telling me plainly that he knew my mission was more than I said it had been. All this time he had been afraid that he would hurt me but it was always my own decisions that were bound to get me in to trouble. I shouldn't have left, I should have stayed. I had promised him I would come back from this and I had lied.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. But the eyes above me weren't yellow, they were green. I could see in them knowledge though, the knowledge I wasn't apologizing to him.

I let my head fall to its side as the darkness began to gather quickly I closed my eyes, not wishing to stare out lifelessly in death. 

“Not just yet,” Gabriella said. 

I felt arms lifting me up, my head lolling back and I was too weak to lift it. I felt a gentle yet strong hand lift my head slightly as something was brought to my lips. Liquid, vile tasting, poured down my throat and I began to cough. 

“Bout time,” a voice grumbled.

“She'll be fine by morning,” a female voice.

Then I felt myself lifted off the ground as a smooth voice said, “Sleep, sister.”


	54. Old Friends in a New City

I awoke to find that I had a blanket drawn over me. Slowly I rose to a sitting position, wincing as pain pulled at my sides. Gentle hands grabbed me and carefully dragged me backward, to place my back against the wooden cart I was sitting in. Veezara took a seat to my right. To my left sat Gabriella, a book opened in front of her. She wore a lavendar colored robe and I could just see the Dark Brotherhood armor underneath.

“She alive?” a voice called, Festus. 

“I told you I had made the antidote correctly,” Gabriella called, not looking up from her book.

“Where are we?” I asked, holding my side. 

I looked out over the countryside but was unable to place the landscape. It was cooler here, much more typical of the fall Skyrim was known for. I shivered and took the moment to look down at my injuries. I was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and simple leather pants that were too long. I lifted the shirt to see my middle bandaged and assumed my thigh was as well.

“We are not far from Windhelm. We have some business to attend to there,” Veezara said. “How are you feeling?

“Not dead,” I said. Still, the pain caused from simple breathing wasn't particularly pleasant.

“You can see a healer in the city if you need. Festus is rusty but the wound is closed, mostly. You have stitches,” Gabriella said.

Festus grumbled something from where he was guiding our cart that I couldn't catch. 

“Your second target, Ennodius, will be to just down the road to the west when we arrive. Look for Anga's Mill. I suggest you rest up in the city before pursuing him, however,” Veezara said.

My shoulders sagged as I remembered that I was still an assassin, had just murdered a man in cold blood and was going to have to do it again soon. I had hopped to put off the other contracts, but there was no point in avoiding one that was no longer out of my way.

“We're here,” Festus said.

I stood, using the cart to push myself up with one arm and holding my side with the other. Gabriella jumped gracefully down from the cart before heading away from the city gates. Veezara landed silently on the ground and turned to offer me a hand, which I took. Festus began stabling his horse in some barn off from the main stables without word before he too began to walk off in the same direction as Gabriella without another word.

I looked to Veezara who was returning from helping Festus stable the horse and cart with a pack: my pack. He shouldered it as he came closer to me and handed me my weapons, which I strapped to my person. When that was done he reached into the bag, and drew the brown cloak over me.

“Gentlemanly,” I said, and he smiled. “So I take it you're actually going into the city?”

“I am. I have business to attend to and will be staying in the Argonian Collective under the name Rasha when not at work. You may ask for me there if you need assistance though I cannot promise I will be there often, sister,” Veezara said. “I recommend you get a room at the local tavern, Candlehearth Hall, perhaps under an assumed name yourself.”

As we reached the city gates Veezara stopped and gently slid my pack onto my shoulders. It was heavier now that it contained two sets of armor and I worried if the bag would hold long. I turned to the Argonian.

“You aren't going in? I thought -”

“Argonians are prohibited from living within the city's walls. It is easier to reach my destination if I head to the docks from here, friend,” Veezara said. 

“What? Why?” I asked.

“The Stormcloaks are a proud Nord people that do not much care for other races, especially those that do not resemble them,” he said.

I pursed my lips, thinking of my entry into Skyrim, how helpful and kind the rebels had been to me, a lost and starving foreigner. This was their stronghold, their main city, home of their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak. The civil war had taken a place in the background in my mind and I had not even thought about it upon approaching the gates. Was what Veezara saying the truth? Was this how the “true Nords” planned on re-imaging their country when free of the Empire's hold?

Veezara had turned from me but I called out to him, “Veezara.” He turned slightly so that he could look at me over his shoulder. “Be careful.”

He nodded to me, “You too, sister.”

With that I entered the city gates. It was mid-day which would give me some time before I would need to consider tracking down Ennodius. I determined I would attempt the feat tomorrow night, taking the time while in Windhelm to find a healer and rest. The last thing I wanted was more unhealed wounds threatening to do me in.

The gates opened for me and I looked about for someone to ask directions to Candlehearth. Before I could take a few steps, however, I noticed a Dark Elf female being cornered by two large Nords.

The blonde Nord who loomed the tallest said, “You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks.”

The elven woman replied, “We haven't chosen any side. It isn't our fight.”

The other man, stouter and bald with ragged clothes pounded one fist into the palm of his other hand before addressing his fellow, “Hey maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help the war is because they're Imperial spies!”

The woman's eyebrows shot up. “Imperial spies? You can't be serious!”

There was a tiny hint of fear in her voice now as a crowd began to circle the scene, cutting off any means of escape for her.

“Maybe we teach you a lesson, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are,” the blond Nord said, grabbing the front of her dress and drawing his dagger on her.

Without thinking I acted, stepping forth from the crowd. The bald man saw this and went to grab me but I easily avoided his clumsy arms, throwing a quick punch to his face as I kicked his legs out from under him. My side and leg protested but I wasted no time, using the man as a spring board to jump onto the tall man's back, my knees hugging his hips as I pressed a dagger to his throat.

“Lower your weapon, slowly,” I said. The Nord obliged. “Now drop it.”

He did and I climbed off his back, making sure to press the tip of my blade lightly to him in warning as I did so. 

“Turn around,” I ordered. 

He turned as his friend slowly rose to his feet. My sword was now in my other hand, giving me distance should they try to charge me. Still the crowd around me was a variable I could not predict.

“So you elf-offspring are traitors too?” he said. “You can go live with them then. You'll regret this.”

“What's going on here?” a guard barked, making his way through the crowd. I noticed he was wearing Stormcloak gear as opposed to the traditional guard armor seen about Skyrim.

“They attacked us,” the bald man said.

The guard looked from the haggard looking man to the other, blond Nord. “Is this true, Rolff?”

“It is,” he said.

The guard turned to me as no one in the crowd spoke in my defense. “You are charged with attacking a -”

“Halt,” said another voice. 

I turned to see a familiar face. The guard turned to him, “Captain?”

I turned to the man who approached me. He ignored the weapons in my hands which were now lowered at my sides as he came to stand before me. He grabbed my hood, removing it to look into my face. Instantly I recognized the blue eyes, the youthful features. 

“Sir, she was protecting me. Rolff drew a dagger on me,” the dark elf said.

Ralof took a step away from me and turned to the woman. “I believe you.”

“What? You believe a stranger and a grey-skin above us?” the bald man said.

“Angrenor, tell me, should I take the words of a drunkard and his beggar friend above that of a Companion who happens to also be Dragonborn?” Ralof asked him.

“I – I – you – she,” Angrenor said, unable to form words.

“This city needs to be an example of what our country will be when we win the war, man,” Ralof said. “Get your drunken fights off my streets. You understand? I've warned you before. Both of you.”

The two men scowled me as the crowd began to disperse and they followed along with them. The Dunmer woman nodded thanks to me as she too walked away, leaving me with the familiar Stormcloak.

He was in better armor than I had last seen him and seemed to be standing taller than I remembered. Ralof grinned at me when the passersby had finally stopped gawking at us and drew me into a hug, causing me to take a sharp intake of breath as I winced from pain. Quickly he released me as I moved my hand to my side, specks of blood now dotting my shirt.

“You're injured,” Ralof said. “I will take you to Wuunferth and see that he heals you.”

With that, the Nord nodded behind him and we began to head that way, toward a large fortress I could see through the cobbled streets.

“So, guard captain? When did that happen?” I asked.

“It's temporary,” Ralof said. “I helped some of my fellow Stormcloaks escape being taken back into custody on my way back to Windhelm and was injured. He made me Guard Captain until I was fully healed and could return to duty on the front lines where I'll be given my own men. But what of you? I heard that a Breton by your named was declared Dragonborn and assumed – was I correct?”

“Yes,” I said. “Though I haven't been up to much dragon slaying recently.”

“Much?” he said laughing. “To be able to take down a beast like that, like the one we saw at Helgen...but you also are a Companion now too? That's what my aunt tells me.”

“You ask about me often?” I asked, jokingly. I saw his pale cheeks blush and laughed. “You know, you could simply write to me yourself.”

“I thought of it,” Ralof said. “So, what brings you to Windhelm? Last we met you were headed to Riften.”

“Actually, I was headed to Riften,” I said.

“Don't tell me you still haven't made it there?” he said, playfully.

“I have though I didn't find the information I needed. I was headed back that way when I was attacked and some travelers found me and took me here to see a healer,” I said.

“You should think of joining up while you are here,” Ralof said. “Perhaps it is Talos who guided you here.”

“Talos has an odd way of guiding if that is the case,” I said. The concept of owing yet  _ another _ group my allegiance was out of the question, unfathomable. We entered the Hall and Ralof showed me down a somewhat narrow passageway. “No, I cannot. I am too busy between the Companions, the dragon slaying, and helping out Honorhall Orphanage. Maybe if things begin to settle down.”

“I understand,” Ralof said. “Things have been hectic here, too. We have made many advancements on the war front, but tensions still run high within the city at times. On top of that we recently seem to have acquired a serial killer but the guards are spread thin and progress has been slow.”

My muscles had tensed at the words “serial killer.” Right now one walked beside him. On the docks another plied his trade, and not far away two more wandered. Was this slew of sudden deaths due to our Guild? Everyone said business had been slow but could I trust that?

Before I could think to ask any more questions on the matter, however, we came to the end of the hall, a dark wooden door now before us. Ralof knocked twice before entering and I followed, standing behind him. I could just see an elderly Imperial man in grey robes around Ralof's form but the rest of the room was cut off from view.

“More visitors? Fantastic,” Wuunferth, the Imperial, said sarcastically. “Guard Captain, you hired this man. Would you be so inclined as to escort him  _ out _ of my chambers?”

“You are to help his investigation, Wuunferth,” Ralof said. “But if he is done here then I could likely be persuaded to show him out.”

“Wonderful,” the Imperial said, again sarcastically.

“But before I go, I did come here for a reason,” the Nord in front of me said, stepping aside to let me fully enter the room. “This is an honored friend of mine, and she needs healing.”

Wuunferth opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, the man with whom he had been arguing with before we entered spoke up.

“What are you doing here?” his voice said, almost a bark.

I turned, my eyes widening as I saw Vilkas standing to Ralof's right. It appeared that the man who had been hired to investigate the assassinations was not only a fellow Companion, but exactly the last Companion I wanted to see given the circumstances. 

“I ran into trouble,” I said. “It's nothing.”

The Nord's yellow eyes traveled down to where I was still holding my side which was lightly bleeding. His lips pursed before he looked at my face once again.

“You're far from Riften,” he said.

“I got waylaid on the way here when I was attacked. Travelers heading to Windhelm helped me,” I said. “I didn't intend to be here. What are you doing here?”

“I sent for him actually,” Ralof said. “Not him specifically, but I asked for assistance investigating the murders I was telling you about from the Companions.”

“Now that we've gotten this touching reunion out of the way, I think I need to examine the patient,” Wuunferth said. “You know this isn't my job, Ralof. I'm court wizard, not some common healer.”

“I'll make sure you're well compensated,” Ralof said. Then to Vilkas, “If you'll follow me.”

“No,” he said. “I am her Shield-Brother and I want to know the extent of her injuries.”

“I'm fine,” I said.

“So you've said before,” he deadpanned. 

I rolled my eyes but said, “Fine.”

“Then I will be going. If either of you need assistance I shall be patrolling near the gates,” Ralof said. To me, “Make sure to stop by tonight if you're staying so that we can catch up.”

I smiled at him as he closed the door leaving the three of us in the room.

“Sit,” Wuunferth ordered, showing me to an uncomfortable and tall looking bench. I had to jump up to sit on it. “Show me your injuries.”

“There's three, sort of,” I said. 

I lifted up the bottom of my shirt to show him my side. He unwrapped the bandages there before observing the wound. The blade had gone clean through, piercing skin and muscle on both sides. It was my first time seeing the injury. The skin around the wounds was shades of red, purple, blue, and black. Thick stitches has been applied in a neat manner but still the skin seemed to be ripping from them despite the handiwork, which had caused me to bleed. I wondered if the cut on my thigh was the same.

“These are unusual wounds,” Wuunferth said. “You were lucky no vital organ was hit, though I suppose that was on purpose.” He gestured to the skin. “This, this was caused by poison coming into contact with your skin, a pretty nasty one too. I've seen it before, painful and typically designed to be slow acting. Used for drawn out deaths or torture. You're not dead though.”

“I wasn't aware,” I said sarcastically, fear hitting my heart. I desperately wished that I had attempted to persuade Vilkas to leave the room. 

Without warning, Wuunferth drew a scalpel over the wounds and I winched as he drew skin. He dropped it into a vile and began pouring various liquids in it. I looked up to see Vilkas staring at me silently

“It's as I thought,” the court wizard said. “There are three strains of these poisons I've seen. This one is typically used by assassins, particularly the Dark Brotherhood, though recorded instances of them using it are rare. You're lucky that whoever found you knew how to make an antidote. But the damage here is more extensive, the antidote rid most of the poison from your system, but it remains in your skin where it entered though vastly less potent. It will prevent your wound from healing, which will likely kill you before the poison itself does any significant damage to your system.”

“Um, yay?” I said.

“Fix it,” Vilkas said.

“Such anti-intellectualism. I don't know why I bother. I can concoct a cure that will reverse the damage to your wounds and get rid you of the poison in its entirety, not that you asked,” Wuunferth said. “I can get it ready in an hour. Do you have more injuries?”

I nodded, looking to Vilkas. “Turn around.”

“I'm sure whatever it is -” he began.

“I said turn around.”

He glared at me but turned around as I showed Wuunferth the wound on my thigh.

“Much the same. I'll reapply your bandages before you go. I'll double the medicine and you can come back in an hour to pick it up,” he said. 

I nodded, covering myself once more and hopping down from the bench after Wuunferth had rebandaged my wounds. I drew my cloak back over me and went to leave the room without saying a word to Vilkas, not sure what to say to him and knowing I was not ready to speak with him after the last two days.

“Tell me what happened,” Vilkas said as he came up behind me in the narrow hall.

“I told you,” I said.

“No one uses a slow-acting poison to just kill someone,” he said. “Whoever attacked you had plans.”

I stopped, remembering the night vividly. Her piercing blue eyes staring down at me in delight as she pressed her knee into my wounded leg, one hand over my mouth as I screamed.  _ We're just getting started _ . 

Vilkas put a hand on my shoulder, turning me to look at him. We stood close in the narrow hall, my back against the bricks, cold in the frozen city.

“Were you tortured?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine.

“No, I...” I said, the memory of her kicking me, forcing me to turn to face her as I lie unable to move on the ground.

"Don't lie to me,” he said. His words had an edge to them.

“I'm not, it was over almost as soon as it began,” I said. “Like I said, some travelers came along. They stopped it. One of them saw I was poisoned, an alchemist, and she made an antidote. I'm fine.”

Memories flooded my mind, memories of lying weak on the floor, pain clouding out my vision. The moment of realization when I knew I was dying, of panic. Of apologizing to the yellow eyes that held mine now.

Vilkas opened his mouth but he said nothing and closed it. I saw his the muscles in his arms tighten and untighten as he stood there, searching for words.

“Are you ok?” he asked finally.

I thought of reminding him I had just told him I was fine but when I opened my mouth I said, “No.”

“Do you know what they wanted?”

“She. Some personal vendetta. She seemed to hold me responsible for the death of her husband,” I said.

Vilkas didn't ask who he was or if I knew. We had both killed people: bandits, murderers, thieves, vampires. Some of these men and women were just ordinary people who went down the wrong path, they had lives and families. It wasn't something you thought about when fighting for your life or the lives of those around you but it was a truth we all knew. I knew he would assume this woman belonged to one of them, one of the likely nameless men whose death I had played a part in. It just happened the truth was more complicated than that.

“Is she dead?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “One of the travelers killed her when saving me. Another healed me as the female made an antidote. Without them I....I won't lie, I thought I was dead.”

“I...” Vilkas began but stopped. “When we were trapped in the rubble at the vampire's lair, I thought you were going to die. Farkas never believed it for a minute though. I would hate to see you prove him wrong about your invulnerability.”

I laughed harshly, my side hurting. I had proven more than once exactly how vulnerable I was. 

“It wasn't Farkas I was worried about,” I said. “It was you.”

“What are you...?” he asked. 

“I thought I had broken my word to you. I told you I was coming back,” I said. I felt my face heat up and was glad for the dimness the hall provided.

Vilkas shut his eyes, his face unreadable to me. When he opened them again his eyes were soft. 

“I'm glad you were wrong,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. 

He raised his hand to brush my cheek lightly which caused goosebumps to raise on my arms. I took a quiet breath in, afraid to breathe and have the moment end. Quickly though he removed it, as though a child caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. I released the air in my lungs quietly, feeling deflated. 


	55. Escape Plans

“I, um,” I said, turning to continue down the hallway. “So, you're investigating a serial killer?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice returned to normal as he followed behind me. “The victims are women, taken at night. The few guards in the city are apathetic, largely rejected from joining the Stormcloaks in any real capacity with the exception of the Guard Captain. But with the unrest in the city, he's been unable to do all investigations alone. His letter specifically requested your aid but as you were unavailable, I came in your stead.”

“He had heard I was a Companion,” I said. “We met at Helgen and he helped me escape when the dragon attacked.”

“You were to be executed?” Vilkas asked.

“Yes,” I said, still feeling residual anger over the matter.

“Seems there is incompetence on both ends of this war. It will be good to see it end,” he said. “This matter, for example, was fairly easy to wrap up.”

“So you've found out who the killer is?” I asked.

“No, but after speaking with Wuunferth, I know when he will strike next,” Vilkas said. “I will wait for him in the town square tonight.”

“And what...wait for him to murder another woman?” I asked.

“He will be wanting this,” Vilkas said. As we exited into the Windhelm cold evening, he showed me an amulet. “It is for necromancy. Whatever his plans are, he will need this to carry them out.”

“Wait,” I said, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying. “If he needs that to do – whatever – it is he wants to do, then how do you know he will be in the town square? What if he doesn't show up because he's missing that? And if he does show up, who is to say that he needs that to murder the next victim?”

He said calmly, “I do not know that he will show up tonight but this was evidence and he is surely aware that I am on to his trail now, I cannot simply return it to his lair, there is no guarantee he will return there. What do you propose I do?”

“Give the amulet to me,” I said.

“What?”

“You said he was going after women and that he likely needs this amulet to carry out whatever ritual he has planned. If you give me that amulet there's no way he'd be able to pass up such a target and it's safer than hoping we can stop him before he attacks another innocent,” I said. 

“You're injured,” he pointed out.

“For now. In an hour I'll get my medicine.”

“That's not an instant cure.”

“You said you were going to stop him, so I shouldn't have to worry about defending myself,” I said. “And if I have to, then I'll have a better chance than most the civilians still left in this city.”

“I cannot allow you to take such a risk.”   
  
“And how do you propose stopping me? Even without the amulet I can go to the square tonight.”   
  
“You will only serve as a distraction to me,” Vilkas said, frustrated. “How am I supposed to focus on finding the killer when I have to worry about you doing something unreasonably dangerous? I cannot watch both of you.”   
  
“So give me the amulet, and you won't have to worry about looking for him,” I said.

Vilkas scowled impressively, handing me the amulet. I went to put it on but he wrapped his hand over mine, lowering it.   
  
“Not now. Wait until tonight, in the square. At least have that much sense,” Vilkas said

I nodded, tucking the amulet into my pocket. If the murders had been happening on a nightly basis, it meant that the killer could not be one of the three assassins that had just arrived in the city with me. If it were a member of the Dark Brotherhood, it was likely this member had not heard of my joining yet and thus would not recognize me or be able to expose me as one of them. Still, if these murders had occurred in relation to my new guild, I could start a war if I wasn't careful.    
  
And what was more, once I was healed and the business here concluded, I would need to assassinate my next contract before heading to Riften. I highly doubted that Vilkas planned on allowing to take the rest of my journey alone which meant I would need to lose him, for which I was likely to need help. 

“I need to visit a friend first while I'm here,” I said. 

“The boy Ralof? Is it wise to encourage his infatuation? He is quite young,” Vilkas said.

“He's not that much younger than me!” I said, my face heating up. “And no. He isn't infatuated -”

“Even you cannot be so blind as to not see that he has a fascination with you,” Vilkas said.

“Fine. Even so, he's just a friend. He saved my life more than once and I will not end my friendship with him because he has a crush on me that I don't return. If he wants to end our friendship, then fine, but I’m not,” I said. 

Vilkas eyed me steadily, his face impassive as he turned the words I'd said over in his mind. I thought of telling him that none of his concerns regarding the young Stormcloak mattered as that wasn't who I was going to visit, but I decided it was best to let him think it was him.

“Very well, I have some business to attend to. Meet me at the inn at six,” Vilkas said.

I nodded to him but he'd already turned from me and begun to maneuver his way through the crowded city streets. I watched him for awhile before taking a route that led me toward the gate before branching off toward the docks. 

As I left the main walkway the streets grew more narrow, rough and in need of repair. The homes were no longer solid bright stone buildings but made of wood, now old and threatening to collapse. There were less people about this part of town, though I saw some eyes stare at me from behind dirty windows. A few Dunmer beggars sat in the street, too far gone to even take notice of me and beg for coin.

I finally made my way to the gate to the docks and the sea air was refreshing. The houses here were similar to those in the Grey Quarter, though of a different architectural style. I looked about for the “Argonian Assemblage” but saw no signs on any building I passed for some time. Finally, as though scratched in by finger nails or claws, I came upon a building with a rusted sign that indicated I'd finally reached my destination.

The Assemblage consisted of one large room and a collection of small beds. There was a small living area pushed to one side where three suspicious sets of Argonian eyes fell on me as I walked through the door. I noticed one hand twitch downward, reaching for a blade. 

Ignoring this, I walked up to the closest person, the a female Argonian, and tried my best to be polite as I asked after “Rasha.”

“Rasha? What do you want with him?” the female asked.

“I'm a friend. He said to look for him here.”

“Friend? You don't look like a friend.”

I resisted asking what a friend ought to look like but said, “Is he here? Do you know when he will be in?”

“He's not here, supposed-friend. You can wait for him here or go,” she said before turning her gaze from me and smoothing out the wood on the rugged top of the nearby table.

“Is he coming back soon?”

The female argonian's yellow eyes refused to meet mine and I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had roughly an hour before I had to meet with Vilkas at the inn. I turned from the counter to see the two males still staring at me, neither having moved during the exchange. Without looking at either of them, I took a seat along the wall by the door, crossing one leg over the other.   
  
As my time was getting short, I saw the door open and Veezara dressed as a dock worker entered. His eyes fell on me and he nodded his head so that I would follow him outside. He led me along the docks, nodding to a few workers we passed, before we reached the end, well out of earshot of anyone.

“Sister, I did not think I would see you so soon,” Veezara said.

“Have you heard of the murders in the city?” I asked.

“I have,” he informed me. “Many look suspiciously to the Dunmer for these crimes though there is some distrust of Argonians as well. This is not unusual but it is particularly damning that all the victims have been of the human-like races.”

“We aren't involved?” I asked.

Veezara tilted his head, in curiosity before saying. “While our presence need be known and feared, we typically allow this to be done through rumor and whispers. It is not our style to leave such an...obvious trail of bodies. For that matter, someone wants our contracts dead. Most of these victims do not appear to have obvious enemies or those with motive to want them dead. With that said, I assure you that the Brotherhood is no way involved in this crime.”

The way he explained the crime, I got the impression that he believed I should have done more research before turning to him with the matter though he did not appear to judge me harshly for it.

“I had to be sure and quickly,” I said. “It turns out I have a friend in the city guard captain who hired a Companion to help with the investigations.”

Veezara smiled, “You walk a difficult path, sister. I assume this Companion wanted your help?”

“The opposite actually,” I said. “But I had something else I had to see you for. I need to leave the city, tonight. I am sure my fellow Companion will not allow me to travel alone and I have a contract and other tasks I need to do, alone. Will you help me?”

The Argonian's eyes never left mine as he thought about his response. “I cannot personally help you, sister. I can give you this, however.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vile. “This is an invisibility potion, potent. It should last for three hours and should be enough to allow you to complete your contract and flee without being seen. There will be a carriage tonight, leaving at midnight and headed back toward Irvastead which you will need to catch to avoid leaving a trail. Is this Companion a Circle member?”

I nodded.

“Then losing him will be no easy matter, even if you are silent, skilled, and cautious. Not when he is already familiar with you. I will arrange a distraction an hour before midnight that should distract him for an hour,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, earnestly.

The argonian smiled at me again, his eyes kinder than I would expect from an assassin trained from birth. “I am glad to assist you, sister. But let us hope your future contracts have less unforeseeable obstacles.”

I laughed tiredly. “With my luck, that isn't likely.”


	56. Bait and Switch

I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair looked darker than usual, a dull sort of color which matched my mood. I looked tired, my ribs newly bandaged after applying the medicine Wuunferth had given me. I sighed, turning from the mirror to the rest of the room which I had rented at Candlehearth Hall. I had paid for three nights I desperately wished I could keep given my injuries. But I couldn’t risk Vilkas accompanying me on my journeys or waiting too long and risking losing Veezara’s aid.

I turned over the hastily bought armor. It was little more than a worn leather tunic which fit oddly around my shoulders. But I couldn’t risk leaving the city unarmored or wearing my Dark Brotherhood gear, and the glass armor was too restrictive to put over my bandages, let alone underneath the commoner clothing I was going to wear to the town square that night.

Once I had finished dressing, I grabbed two letters off the desk and stuck them in my pack which I left on my bed. It was then that I pulled out the amulet Vilkas had given me and placed it about my neck before pulling up my hair. I left the room, making sure to lock it behind me.

By the time I had written my letters, tended my wounds, and gotten redressed, Vilkas had made it to the Inn. He sat in a darkened corner, furthest from the large glowing hearth with a decidedly unhappy look on his face.

“Happy to see me, I see,” I said as I came and sat down beside him.

“I – do you still insist on this foolish mission of yours?” he asked. “If so we should leave soon.”

“I’m sure I have nothing to fear with my shield brother watching my back,” I said.

Vilkas snorted and rose to his feet. I rose as well, attempting to maintain my cheeky smile, but wincing as I stood. Vilkas’s eyes watched me steadily as I did so and I tilted my head, prompting him to comment on it, but he said nothing, simply strode beyond me, making for the door.

I followed him out but didn’t stay close. Vilkas tended to draw attention and with me at his side it was unlikely he would be able to watch from a safe distance without arousing suspicion from the murderer. And I had to look like an ordinary citizen, one who wasn’t stealthily equipped with no less than four daggers.

I knew where the square was when I had traveled there to gain new (and cheap) armor and made sure to walk there as I had earlier. When I arrived, the market was still somewhat crowded, though not as busy as it had been an hour earlier. I nodded to the blacksmith who asked if I had tried on my new pieces.

“Not yet,” I said. “I am still recovering from my journey here.” I touched my abdomen. “It was no safe trip but hopefully with new armor I can continue on once I’m healed thanks to you.”

The armorer smiled, “Armor is an essential for the wary traveler.”

I nodded to him as he turned to speak with a customer who appeared to be a new Stormcloak recruit judging by the conditions of his clothes. Earlier I had learned my identity (as Dragonborn, as a Companion, as the person who had jumped a drunkard hours earlier) had not yet become a widely known thing, or if it was, my face was not attached to it. That allowed me to be able to spread the rumor that I was just another traveler, one who was not accustomed to armor or fighting.

Next I went to the jewelry stall where I made a point to ask about the necklaces and their prices while thumbing the amulet around my neck.

“How much is this do you think?” I asked.

“That?” the Altmer lady leaned over her stall, squinting her eyes. “Ten.”

“Ten? I bought it for fifty,” I said. “Oh, darn, I paid fifty for it. I - ”

“Hello,” said a voice from beside me. 

The man, a thin but tall Imperial stood too close for comfort. His clothes were fine but he smelled odd though I could not place what sort of scent it was. I ignored this, determined to keep up my friendly smile.

“Hello,” I greeted. 

“That amulet, you said you bought it for fifty? I would be willing to pay you five hundred gold for it,” the man said. Then, as if remembering, “Calixto of Calixto’s House of Curiosities. I came across a gentleman earlier today who showed me a similar piece though he wasn’t willing to part with it but it’s just the sort of trinket I’d be interested in buying.”

“Corrium you’re crazy,” the Altmer jeweler said. 

He shot her a smile and said, “Oddities don’t come by every day.”

“Oddities? That’s just junk,” she said.

“Well, how about it? I think that exchange is more than fair,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking down at the jewel and muttering to myself. “I just…this reminded me of my sister. It was just the sort of jewelry she would wear and what with her dying this past winter…”

The man put a hand on my shoulder as I stared down at it. “I know what it is like to lose a sister.” I looked up to him and smiled half-heartedly. “You have her eyes.”

I took a deep, shaky breath and put my hand over his to remove it gently. “Let me think about it tonight. I’ll come to you in the morning with my answer.”    
  
Calixto nodded and gave me directions to his shop before leaving the market. I continued to browse the market until finally the stalls closed and I began to leave, as did the rest of the stragglers. I didn’t see Vilkas but I trusted that he was nearby as I made my way back to the Inn, making sure to take a less direct route and make something of a scene about being lost. It wasn’t long before I came to dark and narrow alleyways and I sighed, looking about as if lost. I was beginning to wonder if the murderer had seen me at all. The best I could hope for was that if I hadn’t grabbed their attention, that the person hadn’t latched on to someone else.

It was at this moment that someone grabbed my wrist. I turned quickly but the small fingers belonged to a child, likely a fellow Breton, and my guard lowered. The kid’s clothes hung on him, little more than rags, his face covered in dirt and dust. I estimated that he couldn’t be older than six.

“Miss, are you lost?” he asked.

“Sort of,” I said, giving a small a laugh.

I was beginning to feel nervous. I had neither saw nor sensed anyone but this one child following me which led me to question: where was the murderer? Where was Vilkas? And what if the murderer attacked while the child was here?

“If you’re looking for your friend, he went with some man,” the kid said. “They were fighting about something and then they left together.”

“What?” I asked, confused. “What did this man look like?”

“Blonde, sort of thin. Creepy dark eyes.”

I recalled the shop owner clearly in my mind, his dirty blonde locks, small puckered lips, and dark brown eyes. He had been casual about his interest in the amulet but still he had been the most obviously suspicious person there. It was him I had thought to meet in this alley instead of this child telling me that he had wandered off with Vilkas.

And Vilkas had argued with him, which given his nature wasn’t surprising. But what was surprising was that he had left with this man. Knowing I was injured and not wishing me to do this bait-mission at all he had just left with Calixto in the middle of an argument?

“Where did they go?” I asked quickly.

“I can show you,” the boy said. 

I nodded for him to go and he took off at a run. He led us down a few alleys. I knew this boy could be lying, luring me in to a trap. I was a stranger in the city and the likeliness I had a friend with me was high and most of the people in the city were Nords, many of them had blonde hair and dark eyes. Alternatively, he could be working for Calixto or the murderer, luring women to their deaths.

Stealthily I unsheathed two daggers, hiding them in my sleeves as I ran. 

When we stopped we were before an large building in one of the older and wealthier neighborhoods in the city. Unlike the streets surrounding it, the homes on this street were largely in disrepair, vines grew up the side and small stones littered the ground beneath my feet. The door was one of the better kept features, it’s sturdy wood seemed both solid and heavy.

“They went in there I think,” the boy said. “But I’m not going in!”

“Can you get the guard? I promise to reward you if you do,” I said. 

The boy bit his lip before nodding and racing off in the opposite direction. I had no idea if the men that passed for the city watch would pay the child any heed but even if they did, as spread thin as they were, the nearest guard could be too far away to be of much help if things went poorly.

I tried the door, which was locked. I retrieved a pick and began working on it. The mechanism was complicated but no where near as much as Veezara’s cuffs had been and I was extremely focused. I didn’t bother to discover whether anyone saw my endeavors. If this was elaborate trap, I had to fall for it because it was that or risk harm coming to Vilkas if he were in danger. 

The door opened, no magical barrier blocking the door which left me relieved. I shut the door quietly behind me, quickly and quietly moving to where I heard noise coming from the inside of the house.

I heard a man talking, his voice wavering between excitement and anger. 

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone,” the voice said, the first clear words I caught. There was a scraping noise. Years spent with my mother told me that was likely the sound of a mortar. “Had to get that girl of yours involved. Now I’ll just have to use you instead. Pity because it’s not nearly enough usable material, but I’ll get more once you and her are out of the way.”

It was at this point I came upon a dim room. It was lit by a couple of torches that revealed Vilkas, strapped to a standing table by his wrists and feet. Both his armor and underclothes had been stripped from him. His eyes looked on blankly but his fingers were flexing, slowly tightening into a fist. Calixto stood over a long bloodied table on my side of the room to my left. He would use a mortar and pestle one moment before picking up a tool and fiddling with it the next. He was facing my direction though his gaze was firmly down on the table until he turned around, having picked up a sharp, thin carving blade.

“Lucky for you, I devised a method to keep the material fresh, able to last longer. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to be a part of my masterpiece,” Calixto said, looking at Vilkas. 

His head tilted upwards and he cursed under his breath, turning pack to the table and grabbing a shot. Quickly he turned back to Vilkas, jamming it into my shield brother’s arm violently and emptying its contents. Vilkas’s hands went limp, his fingers unfurling. Calixto sighed in relief before placing the vile back on the table he was using. When he turned back to Vilkas he stood, watching him for a moment before he spoke.

“Now, where were we?” he said.

As he took a couple of steps toward Vilkas, I snuck in, creeping up behind the madman silently. Inches from him and less than two seconds away from being able to take his life, the man turned, wildly swinging the knife so that I was forced to duck. Hopping back and away from me, Calixto attempted to rush around me to the table. Just as he picked up another syringe, this one full of liquid, I grabbed him, my hand over his mouth, I yanked him back towards me and the shot fell to the floor, shattering.

“You really shouldn’t have turned your back on me,” I said, ending his life swiftly as my blade drew across his throat before he had a second to react. Then quietly, “And you really shouldn’t have threatened my Shield Brother.”

The man choked, coughing blood once before going still and I dropped his body to the floor. I turned back to Vilkas, the panic that had been delayed while the threat was still in the room hitting suddenly. Quickly I looked at the table mechanism, adjusting it so that he was lying on his back. I went back to Calixto’s body, retrieving his key and unlatching the manacles on Vilkas’s ankles and wrists. 

Quickly I went back to the table, examining the ingredients and trying to recall my mother’s lessons in the subject to figure out what the man had done to him. I recognized a couple of ingredients that, when combined, had a paralyzation effect. Still there were others I didn’t recognize but smelled similar to the embalming fluids. Aside from these were a couple of ingredients that I believed were used in healing poultices.

I cursed under my breath. There were too many ingredients for such a novice to figure out if there was an antidote for whatever Calixto had done to him, and guessing could just make situations worse. 

“Everlee,” Vilkas’s voice said, rough and raspy. 

I went over to his side and looked at him, trying and failing to hide my panic. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know enough magic or alchemy to do anything. I should go get Wuunferth. But I…”

I didn’t want to leave him helpless, unarmed and paralyzed, especially if there was a chance he could die. My brain, panic and disorganized, ran through my options but couldn’t come up with a plan. At some point the disjointed thoughts led me to realize that Vilkas was completely naked, which caused me to blush and turn from him, searching for something to cover him with. Finding only bloodied sheets, I opted for Vilkas’s own pants, which had been cut open and lay in a corner with his things. 

Vilkas made a sound like a snort though his face was blank, still unable to show the derision he must have felt. I almost smiled at the fact that at least he couldn’t look at me judgmentally now before feeling guilty at the light heartedness when he could be badly injured

It was then I heard the door bust open and two guards quickly appeared in the room, swords raised. They looked from me to the body on the floor.

“My name is Everlee and we're Companions. This man was the murderer stalking your cities. Please, I need to get Wuunferth,” I said, keeping my voice calm and clear despite my fast beating heart.

The two men looked at each other before lowering their swords. I wasn't sure whether they believed me because they knew of me from Ralof or whether they just assumed it was more feasible the old man lying on the floor who had collected oddities had been the one stalking and killing women. Either way, I raced passed them without a second look back and didn't stop until I hit Wuunferth's door. I knocked several times frantically. I was just about to lockpick his door when I heard an irritated voice call out that he was coming.

Wuunferth showed up at the door wearing long night clothes and glaring. “What do you want?”

I stood panting, and holding my injured side for a second longer than I wanted. “My friend is injured, poisoned. I think some sort of burial fluids mixed with a paralysis but I'm not sure if that's it or what they used, please, help,” I said between breaths.

“I don't get paid enough for this,” the man said quietly but turned and motioned me in.

He quickly gathered many of his supplies, carefully piling them in to two bags, one of which he handed to me. 

“Do you read?” he asked, as we followed me back to the house.

I didn't have time to look over my shoulder and glare at him so I said simply, “Yes.”

“And recognize alchemist ingredients?” Wuunferth asked.

“Many of them, my mother was an alchemist though I am not,” I said. 

“I gathered what I thought we would need, but I may need you to run back and get more if I have need,” he said. 

When we arrived back at the house, there were was a small crowd of onlookers, maybe four or five. Two guards posted at the door let us through.

Wuunferth quickly got to work, wrinkling his nose at the table, taking a sample from Vilkas and making noises that I couldn't quite figure out the meaning to. Vilkas seemed to be able to move his eyes as well now though they tended to stay focused on me as I stood next to him while Wuunferth set about creating the potion at his makeshift lab. I felt the urge to hold his hand in comfort, as my mother had done for me when I was young and very sick but couldn't imagine my shield brother taking kindly to it, especially when he had no ability to say anything or remove my hand.

“Here, this ought to reverse the effects,” Wuunferth said finally. “Likely would have worked its way out of his system on its own in time but if not it would have stopped his heart. So, not a complete waste of time.”

Wuunefth nodded to Vilkas's head, which I tilted up as he poured one liquid down his throat. After that he set it down, picking up a poultice and applying it to to the areas where the injection had taken place. By the time he had completed that, Vilkas's eyes had closed. The man the looked to me.

“He will be fine by morning,” Wuunferth said.

I didn't want to question him but I had to be confident, “Are you sure?”

The man rolled his eyes as he went to collecting his supplies back into their bags. “Yes. I have no reason to coddle you. If there were a chance he would not be back to his old, irritating self by morning I would tell you.” He then mumbled something under his breath as he went back to gathering his tings.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice relieved, breathless. “For both of us. I know this isn't your job, but you saved our lives.”

The man turned, his face blank, but just nodded before summoning one of the guards to gather his things. He then ordered two more standing nearby to take Vilkas wherever we were staying, and we headed back to his room at Candlehearth, the innkeeper rushing to let us in.

Vilkas hadn't woken in the whole affair and I drew up his blanket over his sleeping form. I looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven, when Veezara's distraction was to take place. There was no way to contact him now to tell him to call it off. There was also no need for it or the invisibility potion that was stored in my room upstairs.

Leaving now would be easy and Wuunferth had been certain Vilkas would wake in the morning restored. The murderer had been stopped and I could easily attract guards to the inn to protect Vilkas until he awoke, just in case he had not acted alone.

Still, he had almost been killed. I thought of what the others had said about him, when I had been injured and had lie unconscious for a week. He had stayed by my side. It felt wrong to leave him until I could see for my own eyes that we was well.

I rose from the wooden chair to sit on a worn but comfortable looking couch and settled in for the night.


	57. Weighing Lives

“You look uncomfortable,” Vilkas said, his voice rousing me from sleep.

I straightened, blushing. I hadn't meant to fall asleep and was suddenly embarrassed to be caught doing so. Still, when I was able to focus I saw Vilkas sitting up in bed, the sheet covering his legs but his chest bare. 

“I didn't mean to sleep,” I said. “Wuunferth said you would be fine but I had to be sure.”

“By sleeping in my room?” he asked.

“Like I said, didn't mean to fall asleep. I can't say you're exactly riveting when you're passed out in bed,” I said, irritated and extremely tired. “I can see you're back to your normal self so I'll excuse myself.”

Vilkas said nothing as I left, shutting the door behind me and trudged up the stairs. I thought about attempting a quick exit that early morning but knew there was a good chance he would track me down if I left suddenly and without word. Instead, I slowly removed my clothes and armor, my body stiff from sleeping in it, and applied the medicine before redressing and climbing into bed. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I awoke again it was near noon and the inn was full of people eating lunch and listening to the local bard. I saw Vilkas sitting in a corner to himself and if he noticed me he did not motion to me so I sat at the bar and ordered food for myself. When it came I saw that there was a note on the plate as well and opened it.

_ I see your luck is still unchanged. If you need assistance, I will be back in five days.  _

_ V _

I looked at the note before crumpling it. When I had finished my food I threw the piece of paper in the fire before heading back to my room. Five days would give me time to heal, to visit with Ralof and perhaps encourage Vilkas to go back to Whiterun on his own. Waiting for Veezara and the aid he would bring made the most sense.

But I didn’t want to stay in Windhelm any longer. The city was cold, almost constantly under cloud cover, and its people unfriendly toward non-Nords. I wanted to get on the road, to head south and visit these adoptive parents. I longed to go back to Riften, which despite its thieving underground, was perhaps in one of the prettiest and least violent areas of Skyrim (before I had gotten there). I could see Brynjolf smirk at me when I came to visit and then later inform me about the latest news in the Guild. Part of me even desired to take up some small quest for them. Stealing now seemed a minor moral issue when compared to what I had done in Irvastead…what I had to do just outside the city I know resided in.

And of course Vilkas had to be here. 

Angrily I began to pack my belongings back into my bag. I didn’t owe Vilkas an explanation about my departure. He had known that I would be gone from the Companions for two months and he surely had better things to do than detain me or try to act as a bodyguard if I left. 

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “What?” I asked.

“It’s Ralof,” the voice said, sounding confused

I set the last piece of armor in my bag slowing, taking a deep breath. I turned to the door and opened it, trying to smile at him but feeling tired instead.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened last night,” he said. Then he seemed to notice the bag on my bed. “Are you leaving soon?”

I stood aside and motioned him in, shutting the door behind him. “I was hoping to soon, yes. I was going to tell you on my way out of town.”

It was another lie and I felt guilt clawing at my stomach. I had completely forgotten about Ralof when I had begun packing. He had saved my life more than once and was about to head off to war and I had forgotten him. I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“You have a lot of responsibility,” he said gently, as if sensing my feelings. He nodded to the chair by the door and I nodded. He sat down, facing me. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” I said. “I didn’t intend on going to Whiterun, I never do apparently,” I said, laughing quietly. “I find out I’m dragonborn, the only dragonborn who can stop these beasts from killing countless people. Then Riften was…overwhelming. I spent many hours trying to figure out if someone knew who had sent me the letter about my father and no one knew. I made friends there, got a job, started establishing a life in the city. It was nice. But then I found out that I may have been adopted. I panicked, Ralof. I left the city in a hurry, and I think I hurt some of the people I left behind.”

I thought about Lynn and Brynjolf. I could still recall the thief’s face when I told him I was leaving. He had seemed to understand but I could tell that he wasn’t a fan of my sudden departure. He knew I was running away from my past though he hadn’t called me out or judged me for it. And Lynn, I had left her without her acting older-brother right after she had begun to see me as family.

“Seems understandable. That’s a lot to happen at once,” Ralof said. “And you’re still fighting. So, you left and joined the Companions?”

“Sort of,” I said. “I was trying to help one of the children at Honorhall find some of his family but it turned out the situation was complicated and I ended up agreeing to join the Companions to resolve it.”

“Are you unhappy with them?”

“No, I mean, I thought I might be at first. You met my shield brother, he gave me a hard time when I was just a recruit. Even after I joined he was never a big fan of me,” I said. “Sometimes I think he’s coming around to me but other times I’m pretty sure he hates me because he thinks I’m going to ruin his brother’s life.”

Ralof raised his eyebrows.

“His brother is another Companion and he…has feelings for me. We’re just friends right now but I think Vilkas is overprotective,” he said.

Ralof muttered something I didn’t catch but when I asked him to clarify he waved me off before saying, “It definitely seemed like he was guarding something when I spoke to him this morning.”

“He’s pretty defensive,” I said.

“I thought you might be leaving because of him, that he had ordered you back,” Ralof said.

“No, he hasn’t sent me back to Whiterun. I was on some business for my friends in Riften, for the orphanage actually, when I was waylaid,” I said. “And I really feel it’s my duty to get back to it, after I left them so quickly in the first place.”

“I understand. So, you won’t be staying another night?” he asked.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “But you should write to me at Jorrvaskr when you can. I’d like to know my first friend in Skyrim is doing during the war.”

He smiled at me, rising, and offering me a hand up which I took. He then grasped my hand, so that our forearms touched, before nodding at me. “You have my word,” he said. “And you tell me how the hero of our age is doing.”

“That’s a tall order,” I said.

“You are that hero,” Ralof said, our arms dropping. 

Ralof left, shutting the door behind him. I took one last look about the room before shouldering my pack but before I could turn to leave I heard my door open swiftly. I turned to see Vilkas standing there, his eyes taking in my pack before meeting mine.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“I am,” meeting his gaze steadily.

He stared at me in silence for a moment. Before finally saying, “You don’t think should take some time to heal?” 

“I’m doing well enough. Thank you,” I said formally.

Vilkas tilted his head to the side, looking away from me before returning his wolfish eyes to mine. “Thank you,” he said. “For last night.”

I thought of asking what had happened between him and Calixto. I had assumed some sort of powerful (if brief) mind control spell, but then thought better of it. Instead I nodded and said, “You’re my shield brother.”

“True,” he said. “And I am your Shield Brother so perhaps I should come with you to Riften.”

“I’m not just going to Riften,” I said. “I have to meet with these prospective parents first.”

“The offer remains,” he said.

“You want to follow me around chatting with farmers and visiting children?” I asked, picturing his utter boredom. Of course, I wouldn’t just be meeting them, I wanted to check in with the Thieves Guild and then of course there was the matter of the assassinations I still owed The Dark Brotherhood. “And besides, surely the Companions have other matters to attend to other than assisting one of their own on menial errands.”

Vilkas didn’t say anything. He started to leave before hesitating, turning back to me. “You almost broke your promise once, I won’t ask you to make it again. But…be careful.”

I blinked, suddenly thinking back to all the Giants he had sent me after. It was a jarring difference to think of him then as opposed to the overbearing man he’d been weeks ago or the caring man appeared to be now.

A thought occurred to me, “I will. Vilkas, if you’re going after the Silver Hand –”

“That is not any of your concern,” he said, all gentleness gone.

I repressed the feeling of frustration that built within me then, stopping myself from snapping back at him. I had known how he felt about telling me whatever missions he, Aela, and Skjor were attending to but that hadn’t been the reason I had wished to talk about them.

“Don’t tell me anything. That isn’t why I brought it up,” I said. Then suddenly self-conscious, “I know you don’t need a milk-drinker like me telling you to be careful but you need to be, Vilkas. They’re…trickier than they appear.”

“I am well aware that they have vampires within their ranks.”

“I think there is more to them than that,” I said, thinking of them contacting the Dark Brotherhood but I couldn’t tell him about that. “We attacked a small group and they brought an entire clan down on us without losing any of their own. They aren’t just the simple-minded thugs they seem to be. I don’t want to see you hurt.” Then added, in case he thought I didn’t care for them as well, “Or Aela, or even Skjor.”

Vilkas focused on me intently for a moment and I thought he was going to tell me that I shouldn’t worry about him, that he would be fine, that I should worry more about my own incidences I seemed to keep stumbling into. 

Instead he said, “I am always careful.”

He then left my room without as much as a ‘goodbye.’

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I decided not to wait for nightfall as Vilkas had given me no reason to fear being outright hindered. Still I did my best to make sure that he hadn’t changed his mind or was in some way aware of my movements while trying not to appear as though I were ‘looking over my shoulder.’ When I arrived at the stables I was informed that the carriages were all away but one was expected to return later that evening. I thanked the man, and gave him my fair plus a little more to hold the carriage in case I did not make it back from “hunting” before the driver. I felt guilt well up in me at using the word. The hunt I planned was not for animals.

I took a deep breath as I explored the location it said the man, Ennodius, could be found. According to the notes on the contract he had become paranoid that someone was out to get him several months back and had abandoned his work at the mill to hide in the nearby wilderness. It didn’t take long before I found a very obvious trail, likely where he had snuck into the mill at night to sleep when it rained. I tried not to think about him huddled up in the mill on cold nights where he used to work just waiting for the attack he knew would come one day.

Moving silently I found the man hunched over a small stream. He didn’t see me and I hesitated for a moment, remembering Narfi, how he had mourned his sister, how for a brief moment he had been elated to have her back, how he had realized the truth too late as the light in his eyes went out. I tried my best to remain calm, to not think about the fact that there was another story behind Ennodius, a person whose life I was going to take. I thought of the dagger that had gone through my side, the pain that had consumed me as the poison spread, the fact that death had almost claimed me as well and knew that the person at the other end of the blade could just as easily be me, or Vilkas, or Brynjolf one day. 

And the only thing that propelled me forward was the thought that if I didn’t do this, that day would be sooner than later. As selfish as it was, as inevitable as it may be that death would come, I knew I would fight for another day for them, for myself. It didn’t matter that we saved lives, that I had saved lives. The rationalization, while true, wasn’t what lie at the heart of the matter. The terrifying truth was I knew that even if my death toll far outweighed the good I had done, if it meant keeping myself and those I cared about alive, that I had decided I would keep putting someone else at the end of the blade. 

It scared me to think that wouldn’t change, that I wouldn’t be the hero that I wanted to be if the situation demanded it. If saving thousands of lives meant sacrificing Farkas, would I do it? Would I allow innocents to die for Ria? Would I kill them myself if pressed? What more could be I be manipulated to do if I was forced to do weigh their lives, or my life, to others? Was there a limit?

And at that moment it didn’t matter. Two lives didn’t cut it. Two living, breathing people weren’t enough. Two lives I would put an end to. Two bodies at the end of a blade.

_ No, no I can’t do this. _ I thought, my hands suddenly shaking as the cold thought entered my head. I remembered the way I had killed Grelod, how my mind had slipped into a place where it had been too easy to sneak up on her, run my dagger across her neck, and then throw her body toward shore. I had shut down for Lynn, I had killed a woman. A cruel woman, a woman who had at that moment been in the process of murdering a child, but I had enjoyed killing her. And even then I had felt remorse. 

I wasn’t sure if Ennodius’s death meant as much as Grelod’s. The old woman had treated her charges miserably and had been in the process of actively murdering one of them. Ennodius’s crimes seemed to consist of stealing occasional resources from his former employer to keep himself alive and…and being in the middle of a potential guild war he knew nothing about. Well, that and obvious angering someone enough to pay for his assassination.

Telling myself that his death wasn’t up to me felt like cheating. It may have been true that I hadn’t paid for his murder and it was also true that if I hadn’t been the one sent to end his life, it would have been someone else. But still,  _ I _ was the one killing him. I was taking a man’s life who had done nothing to me.

I almost fled at the thought but then I remembered Vilkas tied to that chair, is name at the top of the list I still carried on my person. If I didn’t do this he would die, Farkas would die, Ria and Kodlak and Aela would die. And they wouldn’t be the only ones either. I didn’t approve of their organization (my organization too now that I had been forced to join them) but Veezara at least seemed to be a good man, despite his profession. If I didn’t go through with this, there would be war and casualties on both sides and even more innocent people getting caught in between.

So I stayed still, and focused on finding that place where I didn’t have to think. As much as it terrified me, I had to let myself fall back into that state where I didn’t have to feel or think when I took someone’s life. Where it was only me, my blade, and action. There was no other way I could close the gap between Ennodius and myself if I couldn’t and his death would be much quicker if I could just allow the brutal efficiency to take place.

And it was too easy to reach that place once I’d made up my mind to go there, to allow myself to become the assassin that would end the man’s life before me. A clarity came to my mind, a total focus that made me hyperaware of my surroundings, of my own movements. And underneath that, a small rush of adrenalin, of thrill that I would hate myself later for. But not now, now it was just me and my target as I closed the final distance.

Silently I pulled Ennodius close, my hand over his mouth and slit his throat, holding him for a second so that he wouldn’t be able to scream if he had that in him. Then I let the body fall, my hand shaking, angry at myself for coming to this point. Angry that I wasn’t feeling more than anger as the blood coursed through my veins, safe, my heart pounding. I watched his fall into the stream and slowly drift away. I had never seen his face. I had killed him and I had never even looked him in the eyes.

And I didn’t want to.


	58. A Dark Dawn

When the carriage came I didn’t head toward Riften or the farm that the couple who wanted to adopt Lynn called home. Without thinking about it I had hopped into the cart, turned to the man and had said, “Dawnstar.”

“That’s an extra ten, ma’m,” the man had said and I handed him the coins. 

He had said nothing about my change of direction which was unusual of the normally chatty drivers. I wasn’t sure if it was my attitude that kept him silent or if it was just his way. Perhaps he had heard too many sad tales of people fleeing to and from the city due to the civil war, or the dragons, or the murders and didn’t want another one to add to his collection.

It wasn’t yet morning when I set foot in the town. I had changed my boots into those of the Dark Brotherhood as they were the warmest as well as the quietest I had. Underneath my commoner clothing (a plain set of pants and shirt) I wore the Dark Brotherhood armor that I had changed into before the carriage had arrived. 

“I have a message to deliver and then I will need to travel to Golde Apple Farm near Riften, do you know the place?” I asked.

“It isn’t on the way,” the man said hesitantly.

“How far is it off the path? I would pay you for the trouble. If not then Irvastead or Riften, whichever is closest,” I said.

The man thought about it for moment. “Charge for Riften from here is 30, for an extra 5 I will take you to the farm but I’ll have to stable after to give myself some rest so you’ll be on your own after,” he said.

I nodded, handing him forty and telling him to keep the change in advance so he wasn’t tempted to taken an easier job if someone in the village awoke and requested him. I decided to leave my bag with him, despite knowing the risks of having it stolen as I didn’t want to be hindered by the two sets of armor, however light, held within. The driver then told me he’d be ready to head out in two hours. The horses needed tending to, possibly stabled and if so he would have to request different ones for the trip which would be a process (he assured me as I handed him three more coin). I knew the man thought I was an easy target to milk for money, but I simply wanted to get my business over with and I needed him to be compliant. As it was I knew I shouldn’t have requested his services to take me to Dawnstar just in case something went wrong with either this contract or Ennodius but I hadn’t wanted Vilkas to get suspicious and I had already paid for his services. 

The town was small and cold, a light layer of snow already on the ground. To the north you could see the sea and to the east the mountains. Despite its harsh surroundings, the village seemed to be a sleepy sort of place. Quaint. Quiet. 

Beitild lived on the edge of town, one of the houses closest to the mine. While all the buildings were small and simple, the ones here were somewhat larger with more outside touches to make them more appealing. The only exception to this was the woman’s whose front door was unlocked as I entered it.

I had told myself not to think about it, to just get the contract over with so that I could move on. After Ennodius I had felt cold, distant, numb. In this state I had hoped that perhaps I could be done with the contracts. There was nothing saying I had to return to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary afterward to collect the job or report that it was completed and if they listened as closely to news of their group about Skyrim as Astrid had hinted that they did, they would know I had done as they asked without me having to go back and risk receiving more. I knew eventually they would hunt me down and bring me back, but the longer I could avoid them, the better.

At first I thought no one was home, that she must have already headed to work despite the sun having yet to rise above the horizon. The place consisted mostly of two large rooms and the first was clearly lived in the most with a small fireplace, bed, and furnishings. As I headed into the back room, it was bare, some minor storage for foodstuffs on the wall, a stove next to a large hastily patched hole in the wall. The floor, however, is what drew my attention.

In the center of the bare second room was a woman on her knees, her clothes covered in soot and grime. She sat whispering, black candles laid out in a circle about her, bones including a human skull at the center of her makeshift altar. I silently stripped out of my common clothing to reveal the Dark Brotherhood outfit underneath and pulled on the hood that covered all but my eyes without her noticing, stashing my clothes in a nearby crate.

Finally she stopped her whispered chants to curse loudly. “Stupid Dark Brotherhood. Knew this was stupid.”

_ She’s summoning the Dark Brotherhood, does she want someone dead or does she also know that someone is out for her own life? _ I wondered. For a second I hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to reveal myself to her, if doing so would cause me to back out, to remember that I was  _ Everlee _ of the Companions, that I didn’t want to kill people who had done me no harm, that if I thought about that as well as the fact that I was standing in someone’s home one second from slitting their throat that I would fun away or break down or worse, assassinate her and learn to forget that there were two distinct parts of me and that I could turn one off if I just let go.

I stepped up to her, my feet next to her hands and she looked up, shocked. She jumped to her feet, one of the larger bones in her hand as she turned.

“You – you from the Dark Brotherhood?” she asked, regaining herself. “I want him dead.”

I said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“Here, this is the payment. A thousand coin, five times what that jerk paid you,” Beitild said. “I want him dead. Kill Leigelf and leave  _ me _ alone.”

She boldly grabbed my arm and placed the coin into my gloved hand. I didn’t have to think about her offer, about whether or not her life was safe now. The Dark Brotherhood was a guild of assassins, not mercenaries to be hired in whatever affairs their patrons took. I had no doubt that one contract did not cancel another they had already deemed worthy to commit themselves to. 

And she hadn’t just paid me to try to save her life. She had wanted to end someone else’s as well. Perhaps it wasn’t any better than what I was doing then, but she wanted me to kill. She was giving me coin to hire a job so that  _ I _ would be the one to do her dirty work and take his death on my conscious. 

_ You, and your kind, are the reason I have to do this. The reason I am here in your home, concealed dagger in hand to kill a stranger. _ I felt the pain and anger inside of me build, the cold feeling of detachment snapping. I felt a bubble of panic in me rise, reminding me I didn’t want to kill and on top of that a warm anger that seeped through me.  _ This is her fault. I don’t want to do this! I want to be home. _

And I realized that “home” no longer referred to Cyrodiil, but to Jorrvaskr. I wanted to be back in the meadhall, eating beside Vilkas as Aela told us her latest adventure or Njada bragged about how she could take on any one of us milkdrinkers. I could handle the Thieve’s Guild, Brynjolf’s own precence enough to ease my reluctance about the concept of being the sort of person who stole for a living. He was a thief, and he was a good person, and that wasn’t contradicting. 

But I wasn’t ready, I wasn’t willing, to accept that one could kill people they did not know for money without remorse and still be a “good person.” Veezara and his ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ were still a contradiction I had yet to understand, that I hoped I never fully understood. I had reached a place where I had decided that I liked him as a person, despite his profession, but I had not yet reached a point of  _ understanding _ how he could do this job, or worse, if he were one of those that had come to enjoy it.

I had only assassinated twice now and for each one I felt despicable, I loathed myself and the Brotherhood for it, for bringing me here.

And  _ she _ was the very reason I would have to, that the Brotherhood could continue to exist and function. Perhaps I was no better than her, doing the dirty work. But in that moment I felt as though for the first time I came close to understanding what exactly  _ hate _ was.  _ This is her fault. _

Tenuous though it was, I latched onto that thought as I launched my dagger across her throat. I stood there, her coin in my hand as she fell to floor and I felt both relief, pain, anger, and guilt well up in me. 

Part of my brain made me realize the coin in my hand meant I had accepted the Contract, that I would have to go back to the Brotherhood personally now when I had hoped to avoid them. I reasoned I could leave the coin, that I owed the Dark Brotherhood no real sense of loyalty or obligation, that accepting a contract, accidentally or not, didn’t mean I honored them enough to take it.

But then I remembered the notes on the paper that warranted I take her life. She was in a feud with her estranged husband, the same person whose lips she had uttered when telling me who she wanted me to kill. The contract itself had indicated that he was the reason I was here.

And a twisted part of myself wanted to take the Contract. He was the reason the room seemed to spin around me as I felt the emotions inside me well up, contradicting and painful. If I had to kill, I would rather murder the people ordering the hits, not their intended targets. I knew that more killing didn’t make it right, that I shouldn’t want revenge, but I wanted it anyway.

I put the money with my clothes and headed back into town. I had one more job to do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I sat on the carriage numbly as we left Dawnstar that morning, Leigelf’s scream echoing in my head as it had when he’d fallen – no since when I had  _ pushed _ him into the mineshaft. At the time it had been nothing, I had felt nothing save the anger Beitild had caused in addition to the adrenalin that built every time I had to fight. Like Ennodius, he hadn’t seen me before he died. 

I was gone before news would hit the town. Leigelf dead in his own mine, Beitild tragically having set a fire so hot it had consumed her and her home so that there wasn’t even a trace left of the woman save ashes. I had timed the blaze so that it would start slow and end suddenly using what little I knew of alchemy and magic and could only hope that I hand done the job correctly so that her neighbors would have time to evacuate in case it spread to their homes. I hoped that I had left the town with only  _ two _ less lives in it, killed by their own feud with the mystery looming over exactly how much the Dark Brotherhood was involved. 

Nadine would be pleased. I felt sick.

I tried to separate it, to remind myself I hadn’t wanted to kill either of them. That it wasn’t  _ me _ that had made those Contracts, that had formed the Dark Brotherhood. The blade was mine, the hand was mine, but the  _ will _ was not mine. 

It didn’t change the fact that I was the one to kill them. Knowing that if I had never joined the Dark Brotherhood that some other assassin or mercenary would have done the job didn’t assuage the feelings of responsibility. For whatever reason, I could not compartmentalize this the way I did when I had been a Companion and taken lives. And the fact that I couldn’t remain in that cold place where I didn’t feel the weight of what I had done was the only thing that comforted me. I wasn’t a complete monster. Not yet.


	59. Golde Apple Farm

I cried most of the way to Golde Apple Farm, silently in the back of the carriage. Once I had to ask the driver to pull over, becoming physically ill as I had with Grelod. I didn’t mind the pain, I deserved it for choosing to be an assassin, for choosing to take on an extra job while I was there. And a tiny part of my brain kept reasoning that as long as it hurt, I was still me, I was still Everlee the way I had come to see myself.

Despite how time seemed to move slow for me that day, we made it to Golde Apple Farm in good time but I knew I was in no fit condition to meet with them. Rather, I moved some ways off their property to set up camp, though it wasn’t necessary either. It was far from dark, but for once I had little else to do, so I sat there, back against a tree, and tried to stop obsessing about my new unwelcome profession.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I got up the next morning, picking up camp and doing my best to wash myself in a nearby stream. I knew that it wasn’t me that the couple was interested in adopting but I felt that I should represent Lynn and Honorhall in the best possible manner, and looking like I hadn’t bathed or slept was not the way to go about that.

Walking up the gently winding path past the golden apple trees that littered the estate I had to admit that the farm was beautiful. I could see Lynn growing up here, playing with a dog in the yard, sneaking an apple from the tree. It wasn’t the life she was used to, but it was one she deserved, one I think she would grow into.

The house itself was fairly large for the typical country estates. It was two story, and unlike most buildings in Skyrim, it was not made of stone. It appeared to be stucco, a pale peach color, something I had only seen rarely, typically within the elven sectors of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil. Each windowsill on the first floor contained a potted section with an assortment of flowers.

I knocked on the door, hoping that the couple was as pleasant as their home.

“Hello, you must be Everlee!” said a woman whom I assumed was ‘Hannah’ from Constance’s letter.

The woman was about my height, also a Breton, but she was rounder. Her face was full and she had dark brown curls that fell from her head. Her smile was genuine as she unexpectedly brought me into a hug. When she let go a man had approached behind her, tall and lanky with blonde hair. A Nord or perhaps an Imperial, it was hard to tell. It was possible he, like me, had mixed blood. He had a kind, but quieter demeanor than his wife.

“Lynn has told us all about you,” the woman said. “Though she didn’t say how young you were. It’s good to finally meet you, come in, come in.”

The woman ushered me in and saw me to a comfy sofa. It was warmer in the south and so the fireplace was not on, a window open to let in the breeze which smelled sweet because of the flowers and trees. It was suddenly jarring to me how the last several nights of my life had been spent in such darkness. I had assassinated three targets, almost been killed, and very nearly let Vilkas get carved up by a madman. 

The woman offered me pie, and I took some. Jacob was mostly quiet, but when he looked at Hannah and thought I was distracted he had a giant grin as opposed to the small smile he gave me. They seemed happy, content as Hannah chatted with me, telling me how excited they were that Honorhall was finally adopting out and their plans for the future. She told me she’d already had a room prepared for Lynn and showed it to me. I asked her some questions I had prearranged, constantly making myself aware of my surroundings, looking for something odd or out of place.

They told me all about their stories, their struggle to have a child. She told me she knew of Lynn’s pickpocketing, the young girl had used her skills on them the first day. Instead of reporting her to the guard or getting her in trouble with Constance they had spoken with her, having a long chat. They had let her keep the locket she had pickpocketed, the one that been handed down through the women in her family for generations, the locket she had hoped to find a daughter for.

The whole thing was a fairy tale. It felt almost too good to be true and I kept waiting for something to happen, for Hannah to say something that was jarring, or for Jacob to draw a blade. I waited to hear screaming from the cellars or see a dead cat rotting in their kitchen. The fact that my mind seemed to be unwilling to wrap itself around the happiness that was the couple disturbed me, especially since my instincts said this couple was on the level. I had no reason to be looking for such darkness from them.

Except that some darkness had slipped within me.

I smiled at them, the day coming to a close. They offered me a place to stay as it would be dark soon so that I wouldn’t have to travel into Riften at night.

“Oh, please, we have a guest room and it would be an honor to have you, you’ve been so lovely,” Hannah said.

I smiled at her, telling myself this was going to be Lynn’s mother soon. Mentally I was happy for the girl, but somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to feel it.

“No, it’s quite alright. I’m expected there tonight, there is a room awaiting me,” I said, lying almost second nature to me now.

“We would not want to see you come to harm,” Jacob said. “The journey itself tends to be mild from here, but the streets of Riften at night can be a dangerous place.”

“I promise that I am always careful,” I assured him. “And I thank you for your concern. But I really should be going.”

It took ten more minutes before I could get myself away from the couple that doted on me as I knew they must also do with Lynn. I left with an open invitation to come by and visit at any time and with promises that they would write me when their adoption was approved about Lynn and her progress. I assured them that I thought they were a lovely couple and that she could not be going to a better home and that I had but to speak with her before giving Constance my approval.

On the walk to Riften I kept picturing Lynn and her new life, and slowly it felt like warmth was seeping into me even as the twilight brought cooler air. I had done some terrible things in the last few days and I would probably be forced to do more, but I had done good too. I had helped Lynn and I was sure I had helped others in my time with the Companions. But even in Riften, even at what was the start of my thieving career, I had found a way to make someone’s life brighter. 

Perhaps I couldn’t be the old Everlee, not completely. But I could still at least continue to try to balance the scale in favor of the good I had done, as opposed to the crimes I had committed. For the first time since leaving the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary, I looked forward to what came next.


	60. Thieves and Fairytales

When I entered Riften night had fallen. The city was dark, few lamps lining the street and of those at least half of them seemed broken. I had decided to sleep at the inn at the center of town rather than camping outside the city mostly for convenience sake but also as a precaution against the enemies I knew I was accumulating lately. The last thing I needed was another Dark Brotherhood member who was unhappy with my aunt or a Silver Hand member sneaking up on me.

As I neared the Inn, I felt someone behind me, a hand slip into my bag. Instantly I turned my hand on their throat as I pressed them up against the inn’s wall. The first thing I did was look down to see that they weren’t armed but in their right hand was my Dark Brotherhood hood. Their wide eyes looked to mine as I snatched the hood, placing it in my bag and hoping they hadn’t had time to consider their temporary prize before holding up one of my swords just in case the man thought to try to go for a weapon on himself.

“I’m sorry! Don’t kill me,” the person practically squeaked.

It was a young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen, an Imperial with light brown hair cleanly washed and wide light eyes. He didn’t look like a typical thief but as I looked him over once again I saw that he was in the Thieves Guild Armor.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Alex – Alexander,” the man said. “Please, I was just trying to –”

“You need to pick your marks better,” I said, frowning. “You can see I’m heavily armed and that I am confident traveling at night. Didn’t they teach you anything?”

Alex’s eyes widened again, “The Thieves Guild? No – I – I just joined. Ran away from Honorhall a year ago.”

“Can you read Alex?” I asked.

Alex nodded that he could and I reached into my bag, pulling out the book I had on basic thieving skills I had been reading in my down time in preparation for whatever Mercer wanted of Brynjolf and me next.

“Read this, and be more careful. In the meantime, better to get nothing than get killed,” I said. 

“You’re – you’re letting me go?” he asked, surprised.

“Only if you never saw me,” I said.

Alex nodded his head as vigorously as he could with my hand at his throat. “Of course!”

I let go of my grip, keeping my sword out as Alex bowed his head at me as he turned, backing away quickly before turning and running off. I sighed, entering the Inn, wondering which of the Guild was still recruiting young and untested thieves. Brynjolf had thrown several madmen to test me as I made my way to the Guild’s headquarters and that only after knowing I had some measure of skill and wouldn’t be murdered instantly. At least I knew that he wasn’t the one who was responsible for the Guild’s high new-member mortality rate.

I entered hoping to get a room and some privacy fairly quickly. Instead I was greeted with some familiar faces smiling at me and inquiring whether I was there to get a new home in the area. Being Dragonborn and helping get the orphanage back on its feet apparently made me a highly anticipated resident. I couldn’t blame them, if I knew the only person who could kill dragons was in the area, I’d probably want them to stick around too. 

An hour later, and a couple of polite drinks (most of which were discreetly discarded) later, I was finally able to make it to my room which I had to insist I would pay for. Tired I flopped down on the bed.

“Nice to see you too, lass,” Brynjolf said as my door opened behind me.

I groaned into the pillow. “It’s nearly midnight,” I said, my words muffled.

The thief chuckled, “And here I thought you had come all this way to see me.”

I rolled over, throwing my pillow at him before smiling. “Only partly.”

“I had a talk with an Alex,” Brynjolf said, shutting the door behind him as he slid into the chair near the door, resting the pillow on his lap. “He said he stole this from a half-Breton woman.”

The thief held up the book. 

I rolled my eyes. “Of course he did. Who is recruiting for you nowadays? Is this because the madman is no longer deterring people? I can go find you another one. Put a bit more pressure on that guy shouting outside Jorrvaskr then send him your way.”

Brynjolf smiled, tossing the book to me. It landed on the edge of the bed as I sat up. “We have more than our share of crazy men and women in the Ratway. Alas, I have been away frequently and thus recruiting has been left up to others.”

“I am starting to think the only curse your Guild has is that of bad judgment,” I said, sitting up. “So, is there a job that needs done? If I can avoid seeing Mercer that would be great.”

“Yes but I am afraid he still wishes to see you. Try not to hold a blade to his throat tomorrow,” Brynjolf said. “He’s been more irritable since that day.”

“That possible?”

“So it seems,” Brynjolf said. “But we do not have to speak of him at this moment. Here I am, in a beautiful and cunning woman’s room once again. There are many other, more pleasant things, we could speak of.”

I rolled my eyes, “Something tells me you often find your way into ladies’ rooms.”

“Not at all,” Brynjolf said, his eyes seeming alight. “Just fascinating ones.”

“That makes me sound like some sort of science experiment,” I said. 

“It would be interesting to get to the bottom of you,” he said in a way that sounded pondering.

“Is that –” I stopped myself from asking if that was some sort of innuendo, deciding I’d rather not know. “Is there something you came here or are you in some sort of book-delivering business now?”

“I came to speak to you of course,” he said. “It has been some time since we last talked and it seems that you are injured once again.”

“How –“

“You’re not wearing armor,” Brynjolf said.

“Well, I  _ was _ going to sleep.”

“I entered shortly after you. Had you changed out of a set, I believe I would have found you in a state of undress,” Brynjolf said, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

I blushed at the thought. “Ok, yes, I was injured. But I shall likely be fine to go back to wearing my armor and normal activities soon.”

“What happened?” 

I heard the scream of the man as he fell down the mineshaft, saw the surprised look on Narfi’s face when he realized I wasn’t his sister, felt the blade stabbing into my side, sending poison rushing into my veins.

“Oh you know, I make friends so easily,” I said lightly, trying to dislodge the images

Brynjolf’s concerned look told me I hadn’t been able to convince him I was fine. “Was it the vampires again?”

“I – no. Angry widow,” I said.

“Ah,” Brynjolf said with sympathy. “Well, I am glad that you survived without my assistance this time. I would hate to learn that I was put under several weeks house arrest by your burly bodyguards for nothing.”

I gave him a small smile and said with humor, “I am so sorry to inconvenience you by saving my life.”

Brynjolf waved his hand, “Don’t think on it. I made off well enough.”

“You didn’t steal from them did you?” I asked. “Because –“

“No, but I did see to some business there,” the thief said. “Your Companion was suspicious enough of me. I did not need the anal man to realize something had been misplaced during my stay.”

“Well, it is his home,” I said. 

“Oh, so he is typically all smiles?”

I laughed, “Ok, no. I cannot say that.”

He smiled. “Did your new injury require you to spend more time in his bed? Because if so I pity you. It had a peculiar smell.”

I blushed, “No, thank you. The only beds I’ve been in are my own.”

“Well, with one exception,” Brynjolf reminded me.

“You wanted to meet me early! It is hardly my fault you were so tardy,” I said. “Anyway – so have you spoken with Lynn lately?”

“I got back into town myself yesterday and she told me that you were expected soon, which is why I have lingered,” he admitted.

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “That’s nice of you.”

“Well, that and I could use your help,” Brynjolf said, his voice sounding oddly awkward. Almost as soon as I began to wonder at it, his face smoothed and he sounded normal as he said, “She tells me she may be adopted soon.”

“Yes, I was visiting this couple wishing to adopt her earlier today. They were so perfect it almost didn’t seem real.”

“Suspiciously?”

“Oddly no,” I said, shrugging. “And I was looking.”

“That is good then.”

“Yes. Though I’m sure she’s going to miss you. She has a huge crush on you.”

“Does she now?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You had to have noticed,” I said.

He smiled, “Guilty. Though I also got the impression she was hoping to live vicariously through you.”

“Vicariously through –” I asked, confused. “What? She – she wanted you and me…?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “She has a whole day planned tomorrow upon which she was so eager to include me that I was felt forced to agree.”

“Felt forced did you?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “Tell me, what does this big day have in store? Something tells me you are already aware.”

“Perhaps, but where is the fun in telling you?” he said, grinning. “Besides, she would never forgive me if I ruined all the surprises.”

I groaned, “I hate surprises.”

“Well then it is a good thing I warned you.”

“No because now I have to anticipate it,” I said. “I should talk with Constance about reading her too many fairy tales. I am not a princess or damsel in need of a man to rescue or marry her.”

“Ah, but I am no prince, either,” he said.

“No, but you are the charming rogue. Depending on the tale you are the hero or the villain,” I said. “I am not entirely sure where I fit.”

“Charming?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow while giving me his best seductive smile. 

I rolled my eyes, feeling a blush start to creep to my cheeks. “You are well aware of your charms.”

“Aye, but I had started to think they remained invisible to you.”

“Not invisible, just frustrating.”

“Ah yes, I do recall you being quite frustrated with me before,” he said. “Tell me, is this a good or bad frustrating?”

I smirked, “Where is the fun in telling you?”

Brynjolf laughed, “Touché.”

I yawned, leaning back against the wall the bed was against. Brynjolf rose, placing the pillow in my lap and grabbing the book to put on the end table.

“Tomorrow, my tired not-princess,” he said humorously.

“Tomorrow, oh not-prince,” I said as he exited the room, shutting the door which clicked behind him, locked (for whatever good that would do in the city in which the Thieves Guild called home).

I laid back down, glad to have seen my friend again, even if he was sometimes irritating. Tomorrow I would have to deal with Mercer early but it was good to know I had the rest of the day to look forward to with Lynn, even if she did plan on trying to play match-maker with the red haired rogue. 

That night when I fell asleep I did not dream what I had the last several nights: of screams, of dead eyes, of fallen friends. I dreamed of Vilkas, in shiny armor sitting on a throne looking displeased while Brynjolf, the roguish thief, bowed mockingly before him. I dreamt of the loyal huntsman, Farkas, a warm smile on as he brought back his game to help feed the hold. And from the sidelines I watched, amused and in the shadows, not a princess or a damsel, just Everlee. 


	61. Love and War

When I awoke the next morning and made my way down to the tavern, I was greeted with a messenger who shoved a note in my hand and scurried off before I could pay him. I felt my palms begin to sweat, worried that this was another morbid message from the Dark Brotherhood.

_ Half-Breton, _

_ Can’t see you today. Not that I wanted to. Come tomorrow. Early.  _

_ Mercer _

I sighed, too relieved to feel anything else about the pushy old man.  _ At least he left a note, _ I thought. I shoved the message into a pocket and headed outside, making my way to the orphanage. The building had been renovated, as had that grounds. It didn’t look as depressing as it had so many times before.

Once inside Constance smiled and waved me over from a new desk just inside the entrance. A few younger kids were crowded around her and she shooed them off so I could sit beside her. She caught me up on how the Orphanage was doing and I debriefed her on meeting Lynn’s prospective parents. 

Constance sighed, smiling, “Oh that is wonderful. Lynn deserves a good home after everything she’s been through.”

“She really does. I -” I began but was interrupted as a small form threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly.

“You’re here!” Lynn said excitedly. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet and I laughed, waving to Constance as she dragged me outside. “You have to tell me everything. How’s Jared? How were the family? How are the Companions? Are you…” She let her eyes dart and asked in a whisper, “How’s the Thieves’ Guild?”

I sat down with her on a bench in a little garden area. I could hear some children laughing at a distance. The atmosphere had changed so much in the months since Grelod had gone it was almost unbelievable. The memory of that night, my dagger at her throat flashed into my mind and I shook my head.

“They seemed really nice,” I said. “It’s a big home and there’s a lot of space to run around in. It’s pretty far from any city though. The Companions are doing well. Jared’s going to have his Trial to become an Apprentice soon. But I’ve told you all this.”

“Yeah but it’s different  _ hearing _ it,” Lynn said. She moved a large bag she had on her shoulders to her front, plopping it on her lap. “Anyway, here. I got you this.”

Lynn pulled out some fabric and I held it up, realizing it was a dress, more brightly colored than I was used to the ones in Skyrim being. It reminded me of the mages’ guild outfits back home, often brightly colored except this dress wasn’t floor length and revealed quite a bit more skin than anything they would have worn.

“It’s…” I said, not sure what to say. I tilted my head, noting the little holes on the side that would reveal skin. “Incomplete?”

Lynn rolled her eyes, “It’s  _ supposed _ to look like that. It’s for what we’re doing today.”

“Uh huh,” I said, remembering what Brynjolf said about her romanticizing us. I flushed a little, “Why exactly do I need a dress like this?”

“Because Brynjolf said you’d help me pass out these,” Lynn said, dropping a heap of pamphlets on my lap.

I draped the dress over one arm and picked one up and read the title ‘The Warmth of Mara.’ The first page encouraged people to go to the Temple and I leafed through the rest which was stories of Mara’s greatness, and the proper ways you should live according to her teachings. I looked to Lynn.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” I said. 

Lynn shrugged, “She’s the Goddess of love - what’s not to like? Besides, I told them my sister would be helping me and they gave me this for you.”

“ _ They _ gave that to you?” I asked doubtfully. “It doesn’t look like standard Priestess garb.”

Lynn bit her lip, smiling and shoved my arm. “Just go put it on before Brynjolf gets here.”

“Lynn, you know Brynjolf and I are just -” I began.

“Talking about me again, lass?” Brynjolf asked as he came over to us.

“She talks about you a lot!” Lynn said.

I groaned, “I do not.”

“She does!”

“ _ You _ talk about him a lot,” I said. “So then I end up talking about him.”

“Hey! I do not,” Lynn said, pouting. She looked to Brynjolf, “Make her put on the dress.”

“Make her?” Brynjolf asked, looking at me with a light in his eyes and an eyebrow quirked.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said. I handed Lynn the dress back, “I’ll help you hand out fliers but I’m not wearing this.”

Lynn pouted, “Please? I paid a lot for it.”

I gave her a look.

“It  _ cost _ a lot,” Lynn corrected.

“But did you pay for it? You know stealing is bad,” Brynjolf said, amused.

Lynn beamed at him, “Oh super bad.”

I sighed, “If I wear it someone will probably recognize it as stolen.”

Lynn frowned then sighed, putting it back in the bag. “Fine.” She handed Brynjolf the rest of the fliers. “I’m going to go… do chores. Remember to hand all of those out!”

Lynn got up and ran off and then turned back at the door of the orphanage and winked at Brynjolf who winked back. I raised an eyebrow.

“I saw that,” I said, standing up, tucking the bundle under my arm. “I thought we were supposed to be spending time with Lynn today.”

“It seems that she wishes us to spend time together,” Brynjolf said. 

Brynjolf turned to someone in the market and expertly convinced them to take what he was offering, though it seemed unlikely they had any idea what they’d accepted. I tried to hand the flier to a nord man I recognized but he threw it back at me and I sighed, uncrumpling it.

He smiled, “Issues Everlee?”

“Not everyone missed their calling as a priest,” I said, watching him hand out another flier with a wink that made the girl flush.

“It’s your delivery, lass,” Brynjolf said. “This is goddess of love, Everlee, not obligation.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I tried to hand another flier to a Nord woman who sniffed and walked by. Brynjolf caught her attention and in moments she was walking away with a smile and pink cheeks, flier in hand.

“Well it is an obligation,” I pointed out helpfully. 

Brynjolf moved mover to me, using a hand to push the fliers down and my chin up to look into his eyes. 

“Love is a gift lass, not an obligation,” he said, his accent thickening as he looked into my eyes.

My mouth fell open a little and shut, and unbidden my cheeks became pink. A grin spread over his face, the serious and intense look giving way as he laughed. I breathed out, pulling back and shaking my head.

“You’re impossible,” I said. 

Brynjolf smirked, “You enjoy it.” He passed out a flier. “You don’t have to give your gift to them, just let them know it's there.”

“Are you talking about the flier or are you insinuating I have something else I could be giving out for Mara?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I watched him.

“That’s up to you, lass, don’t you think?” Brynjolf asked, his voice lower.

I flushed and he laughed. 

“It’s going to be a long day,” I said quietly to myself.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

By the afternoon we had finally distributed all of the pamphlets Lynn had given us for Mara and I had somehow managed to fight my way into the use of a horse for free. When we arrived back at the orphanage for the second time, she was gone and had left a message for us sending us to the brewery.

“Loving, fighting, and a good drink,” Brynjolf said, amused as we turned onto the street. “Lynn is going to be a heartbreaker.”

I shook my head in amazement. Brynjolf got the door for me and I rolled my eyes as I ducked under his arm to enter the building. The smell of alcohol was strong, but there didn’t seem to be any sort of store front for the wares at the entrance Lynn had told us to go to. 

“Perhaps she expects us to help ourselves?” Brynjolf whispered near my ear.

I shivered and looked about. There was a quiet moaning, the sound of someone crying and I quietly crept closer. A few feet away, between two large barrels, an Argonian woman lie on the floor, her reptilian eyes watery as she held her stomach. I bent down to be at her face level, whatever goal Lynn had for me forgotten.

“Are you alright?” I asked. “Do you need help?”

The woman whined and looked up, “It’s… nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, lass,” Brynjolf said, voice soothing.

The Argonian looked between us for a few moments before sighing, chest collapsing. “It’s the skooma. I am trying to quit but…”

The woman shuddered.

“It has a hold on me. Please, if you could just… give me a healing potion, I might be rid of it once and for all,” she begged. 

Without a second thought, I reached into my bag and pulled out a healing potion, a reward the priests had given us for assisting them. I bent down and handed it to her, looking into her eyes.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She watched me steadily as she drank the potion. Her body shook less even before she’d finished it and she looked healthier, though I couldn’t quite pinpoint as to why that was, not familiar enough with Argonians to put a specific reason as to  _ how _ she looked healthier. She sighed and set the bottle down on her lap when she was done.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “My name is Wujeeta, friend.”

Brynjolf leaned down beside me and offered her a hand which she took and they rose together. I stood up as well.

“Can you tell me where you got this?” Brynjolf asked kindly, holding up a different empty bottle.

“I - I really shouldn’t,” Wujeeta said.

“Come now, you don’t want this back in your life do you? I could make the problem go away?” Brynjolf said.

“Kill them?” Wujeeta said, surprised. “No, no I - no.”

“Calm yourself, lass. I don’t plan on killing anyone and your name won’t be mentioned,” Brynjolf said. 

She looked over him and said, “You’re Thieves’ Guild aren’t you?”

“I might be,” Brynjolf said.

“I - I… You’ll protect me? They would kill me if -” Wujeeta said.

“We’ll protect you,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s Sarthis Idren. They run out of the warehouse but only the Jarl has a key,” she said.

I opened my mouth to word my own suspicions on  _ how _ they could run in a place that was not easily gotten into unless it was by someone official but shut my mouth. In a weird way, the Thieves’ Guild was the most honest part of Riften. I could feel my blood warm at the thought of the Jarl being part of this operation in some way - even allowing it (for a cut or some other benefit no doubt). There were too many poor and displaced people in Riften as it was, the last thing they needed was drug trade run amok in the city.

“Thank you, Wujeeta,” Brynjolf said. “And good luck.”

With that Brynjolf turned to leave and I followed him out. 

“Only the Jarl has the key?” I whispered.

“Perhaps it’s time you had a talk with her,” Brynjolf said.

“Me?” I asked, surprised into a louder voice.

“I think your question would be more likely to get answers out of the Jarl than a member of the Thieves’ Guild,” Brynjolf said, smirking.

“I am a - “” I said and stopped. “She knows about you?”

“No but I intend to keep it that way by staying away from her notice. A request from the Dragonborn hero though, that wouldn’t seem as odd as that of a simple shopkeep,” Brynjolf said.

I rolled my eyes, “Fine.”

xxxxxxxxxx

It turned out being a hero, even just a minor one, was enough to get the Jarl to talk to me. That and the fact that the Jarl had known about the skooma operation but had supposedly been unable to stop it because of moles in the guard that would alert the dealers before any raid. Which meant that I, an army of one, was somehow supposed to get inside and take out the operation and find the person who was shipping the skooma our way if possible. 

Brynjolf was at my side as we watched the guard on the dock. I notched an arrow and fired at the boat and waited. The man seemed alarmed and walked towards it. It was sad how often such a ploy could work. I fired another, and watched him walk toward it and try to spot where it had come from, his eyes suspicious. By this point Brynjolf had already gone to the door and unlocked it and I hid my bow and arrows and followed after him, silently entering the warehouse behind him. 

It was strange, working together like this, hiding in the shadows. As a Companion, I had become somewhat used to an occasional partner but where we were now skillfully keeping to the dark, we would charge in. Occasionally, especially on bigger quests, there would be strategy, a well organized attack. But stealth was never much part of it.

It was exciting to feel my heart race, knowing at any moment a guard could catch us and then we would have to flee or fight our way out. In that time Sarthis could slip away and everything would be for not. The security would be increased and another opportunity to put an end to his portion of the Skooma trade wouldn’t present itself for days, maybe weeks. 

It was entirely different from the Companions, and moreso from the Dark Brotherhood. Emotions got in the way on those quests, and it was even worse when I thought I might feel nothing. Killing was quick and easy when your target didn’t see you coming. And each time I was forced to finish a contract, the weight of each life…

I couldn’t think about that now. But what Brynjolf had said about not being the Dark Brotherhood made more sense now than it ever had. They didn’t kill, didn’t aim to kill. Oh, what they did was often wrong on a moral level but not in the way the Dark Brotherhood was. And, if things went well, resulted in less death than the Companions often left. Which at this moment I was grateful for. I enjoyed being a Companion and knew it was for the greater good, but I had had enough of death.

Together, Brynjolf and I used the guards to practically lead us to where their operation was. As we got closer, it was more heavily guarded and once or twice we had stopped the other in the nick of time before a guard suddenly turned around. Finally we saw the man who matched the description the Jarl had given us of him. 

Unlike his fellow men who were dressed in light armor, wearing metal sparingly, their gear worn out, his was steel. It covered him from head to tow, a horned helmet of Nord make atop his head, covering everything save his eyes and mouth. He was a dunmer, his grey skin paler than most, but his red eyes stood out large and seemed to almost glow in the dim lighting.

I looked and saw Brynjolf had already moved, his blade drawn as he approached. Fear seemed to grip my throat and I removed my dagger, charging toward the man, knocking off his helmet which he had not fastened properly and bashing him on the head before he could properly build up to a shout.

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow and stood up, “We can’t leave him here. The Skooma trade shouldn’t be run by some thugs, lass.”

“I thought we didn’t kill people,” I said, my chin raising slightly in challenge.

“There are exceptions,” Brynjolf said. “If we try to walk him out of here, his men will kill us.”

I pursed my lips and thought a moment before responding, “We could wait until he wakes and walk him out with a dagger to his throat.”

“And hope none of his men wish to usurp him. Do you think this group is loyal to Sarthis?” Brynjolf asked. “Or to the coin?”

I shook my head, “Divines. I…”

I looked away from Brynjolf who stepped closer, “Something’s happened to you hasn’t it?”

“I’m just… tired of death,” I said, even as the urge to tell him why fought to burst forth instead.

“This man dies and we save people like Wujeeta,” Brynjolf said. “We can monitor the trade, lass.”

I snorted, “It will still ruin lives.”

“Or we could leave and let Sarthis force his trade on the people of Riften and kill them when they can’t pay the price?” Brynjolf said.

“Divines,” I cursed and flushed. “Just… fine.”

Brynjolf stepped away and I heard nothing but when I looked the man was bleeding out on the floor. The redheaded nord handed me a small book and I saw the recordings of shipments and the name Kilyner attached to a letter and a location. All it would take was one more death and the trade would stop, at least until some communication was arranged to start it up again but with the war and the problems in Morrowind that could be some time from now and I knew that the Thieves Guild didn’t deal much with skooma and moon sugar as it was.

“Let’s go,” I said wearily.


	62. Caught in the Rain

I was exhausted by the time I made my way back to my home in Riften. Still, I tossed and turned and couldn’t fall asleep no matter what position I slept in. I kept dreaming of skooma addicts and dead Dunmer and an assassin running her blade through me. 

Finally I sat up with a frustrated noise. I padded across the wooden floor to the wardrobe and pulled out some light clothing, a pink sundress. I’d never worn it - I barely remembered the last time I’d gone out without my armor. It felt like I’d been fighting forever instead of the last few months.

When I got outside it was just after dawn and there was a light mist over the town coming from the water. It was cloudy, as per usual for Riften, and despite the summery season I felt chilled. I took a deep breath and began to walk, feeling oddly naked without any armor or weapons on me (well, other than a dagger I had strapped to my thigh). 

I wandered until late morning. The sun had begun to peek through the clouds and finally start to warm the earth. I now found myself outside the city walls, sitting on the bank of the water, sandals off and feet buried in the sand. With a deep breath I laid back.

And gasped.

“Bryjolf!” I said, sitting up suddenly.

“Aye lass,” Bryjolf said. “Did you forget you were supposed to speak to Mercer?”

“Maybe I just wanted to procrastinate it,” I said.

In all honesty, I hadn’t thought about it. But Mercer hadn’t struck me as a morning person.

“Better get it over with,” Bryjolf said. “Or the man will be mad.”

“He’s always mad,” I said.

Bryjolf laughed and sat down beside me. I expected him to start chattering, to flirt, to convince me to go back to Riften with him right then. Any noise really. But instead he just sat in silence with me as we both stared out over the lapping water.

“He wants you to do a job in Whiterun. A simple… borrowing from the tavern there,” Bryjolf said.

“He called me all the way here for that?” I asked. “I was  _ in _ Whiterun. Couldn’t he have delivered a message?”

“He likes to make sure you’re his,” Bryjolf said.

“I am  _ not _ his,” I said vehemently.

“I know, lass,” Bryjolf said quietly. “You know when we met, I never thought you’d be stuck between us and the Companions. I doubted you’d join us at all.”

“You didn’t act like you doubted that.”

“Aye.”

He didn’t elaborate and I chanced a glance at him. In the tiny amount of sunlight his hair seemed even brighter. His skin was pale, obviously not getting as much sun as his “job” as a merchant would require. Or perhaps he didn’t tan at all. I had seen few darker skinned Nords in this northern country.

We were silent again for some time and I laid back, watching the growing clouds drift over the sky. I sighed, thinking of warmer, dryer Cyrodiil. I loved the rain but sometimes it was nice to just enjoy a cool, rain-free day.

“You need to take care of yourself, lass,” Bryjolf said.

I laughed a little at that. Between the three guilds I was juggling, it seemed I had no time for that. It was constant fighting and peacemaking. It felt like a long time since I’d been able to just do what I wanted, what made me feel good. My mind drifted back to my first days in the Companions, to my fight with Vilkas. For a brief time I had felt so alive. I shut my eyes. 

And felt a few drops of rain hit my face. 

I sighed and sat up, ready to stand. Bryjolf caught my wrist.

“Stay for a moment,” he said. 

I looked up at the growing dark clouds. 

“We’ll get wet,” I said.

“So we will. It’ll pass.”

I looked at him and took a quick breath in. I understood what he was saying and I couldn’t fight the instinct to just lean into his side and rest my head on his shoulders.

I whispered, “I hope so.”


	63. A Small Leak

Returning to Whiterun felt like coming home. It wasn’t Cyrodiil but… maybe this chosen place was beginning to feel more like home than Cyrodiil ever was. I thought of the message I’d sent my mother. It should have reached her by now even with the war unless it had been intercepted. I wondered which it was: was she carefully thinking over a reply or had the war prevented her from ever seeing my letter? Or maybe there was a third option: she wasn’t going to reply at all now that the truth was out. Maybe she’d pretend to never see 0r -

Or maybe I was being paranoid. Life spent in three guilds (and hiding that from each) was making me overthink my allegiances, loyalty… love. I shook my head as if doing so might clear the confusion from my head.

After all I had a job to do. 

I entered through the back of the tavern and snuck around a redguard woman who was delivering food from the kitchen to the bars and up the stairs. It was as simple as lifting the coin from the safe and I’d be out. 

But when I was near the top of the staircase I heard familiar voices arguing.

“We’ve been standing guard here a week, no one’s coming,” Torvar grumbled.

“Our contact said -” Ria began.

“Our contact can shove it up his -”

My heart was beating fast as I hurried down the stairs and out the backdoor. I leaned against the stone wall and tried to remember how to breathe.  _ Contact? _ The Companions had a contact and the Thieves Guild had a leak and while it was maybe a minor thing to either group, it was a big hindrance to me. 

When my heart calmed down I snuck around the building. I was fairly sure the window I wanted was in the corner, that was where the ledger had been anyway last I’d come here on Thieves’ Guild business. It was likely the safe was there too. It had been a couple of months ago at least. I looked at the ivy clinging to the side of the building and began to climb.

My heart was in my throat and I prayed no one down below saw me. It was a back alley and I couldn’t recall anyone ever in it during broad daylight. At night there were some wandering drunks at times but -

_ Focus Everlee. _

I pushed the window open further, slowly until I could haul myself inside. My muscles felt the burn of the trip but months of training with the Companions had made me much stronger than when I had come to this land. I looked around and felt my body relax as I saw the grey boring safe still tucked in the wall between two bookshelves. I went over to it and opened it to find it empty. I fought to keep a curse from leaking out of my lips. 

_ Stupid Mercer. _

Not that it was his fault necessarily. It was his leak but the real problem was that I’d have to report to him I couldn’t finish the job. I looked forward to the response of that. He held the power to reveal me to the Companions. He could and would blackmail me. Even though this wasn’t my fault. Even writing to him was a risk, with or without my name attached.

The climb down was uneventful and I stretched my muscles out before coming out between the shops in the main square and heading up to Jorrvaskr. When I reached I entered they were all gathered for lunch, save Torvar, Ria, and Vilkas. No wonder the man was grumpy. He never woke early enough to eat breakfast so he was probably starving. 

The ruckus laughter stopped as I stepped down into the dining area. Jared grinned at me.

“Everlee!” he said, his new, lower voice still so odd to me. “How was Lynn?” 

“Settled in a wonderful home now,” I said, smiling. “They seemed perfect.”

“Sit down with us, Everlee,” Farkas said, indicating to the seat next to him. “You must be hungry from the journey.”

I sat down next to Farkas and flushed as he wrapped me in a one armed hug. Almost as soon as he did the door to the back opened and there was Vilkas. I opened my mouth as if to explain but what was there  _ to  _ explain? It was just a hug and no matter how much he imagined himself his brother’s keeper, he was an adult man. And… and he was glowering. I frowned back at him.

Then he sat next to me.

Again I opened my mouth. Why sit next to me if so angry? Was it his way of watching me? 

“You’re back,” Vilkas stated. “No more  _ adventures?” _

I gave him a look as I shrugged off Farkas’s arm lightly. 

“Why? Would that bother you?” I asked him. 

“Of course it would,” he snapped. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Not.”

I coughed a laugh and looked to him, amused but he wouldn’t glance in my direction. 

“Evelee, I am to become a Companion Thursday,” Jared said.

“Your birthday,” I said. “I’m glad I made it home in time.”

“Me too,” Farkas said. 


	64. Snowfall

Jared’s thirteenth birthday began by being woken up at the crack of dawn. Us underlings, not of the Circle, were each told to wake him the way we were awoken our first day. This meant that I gently pushed his arm and whispered for him to wake up the way Ria had done for me. Ria, Njada and Athis barked a near identical “get up,” which sounded a decent impression of Vilkas. Then Torvar took a bucket of water to the already sitting boy and said:

“Wake up you drunken sot,” Torvar said.

Njada aned Athis laughed as Ria handed him a towel and I just rolled by eyes. Apparently Torvar had celebrated a little too hard after becoming a Companion, which wasn’t a surprise at all. 

“Gah, my bed,” Jared said, glaring at Torvar. “You’re the drunken one.”

“Better not talk to me like that, you might not get in,” Torvar said.

“Like you have a say in it,” Jared said, fighting a smile.

“Hey, I have plenty say,” Torvar said.

“When it comes to cleaning duty,” I said.

“That was one time. I didn’t know the guy wasn’t the thief. How was I supposed to know he owned the place when he dressed like that?” he said.

“They stole his clothes, idiot,” Njada said.

“Can you all get out so I can get dressed? You’re all just staring,” Jared said, shivering.

We left the room since it was his birthday and let him get dressed (and dried off) in privacy despite the room being shared between all of us. 

When he was done we all followed him upstairs and out into the back courtyard. The Circle were all there waiting, all serious faced except Farkas who was grinning until Vilkas, noticing where my eyes were, gave him an even more serious look.

Kodlak stepped forward, eyes focused on Jared as the rest of us formed a circle around him.

“Jared, today you are here to be tested. If you succeed you will be an Apprentice to the Companions, which is a great honor. Here we will train you while you work so that one day you may become a Companion if your honor and skill proves you worthy,” Kodlak said. “Until you come of age to be tested, you will be one of us should you succeed here. Do you accept these conditions?”

Aela shifted, looking bored and Skjor looked even grumpier than usual at the speech. 

“I do,” Jared said, tilting his chin up.

“Then let the test begin.”

xxxx

After the test of basic skills, Jared became an Apprentice which was immediately followed by a day of revelry. There was feasting and storytelling, dancing and drinking (though I kept Jared’s hands off of it). By nightfall most were lounging, half-asleep off of the good time. Athis, who had had a drinking competition he’d soundly lost to Torvar, was asleep with his head on Njada’s shoulder. She feigned looking upset, arms crossed as she sat there. But her body was relaxed and she didn’t make a move to shove him off of her.

I headed outside for some fresh air, looking over the wall at the sprawling land down below. It was colder now, the seasons shifting, and I could see little puffs of air when I breathed out. I shivered and reminded myself to buy a warm cloak in the market the next time I had a chance.

“You’re cold,” a familiar voice said.

“And you’re stating the obvious, Vilkas,” I replied.

I turned and saw Vilkas offering me a sword. I tilted my head but took it.

“What is this for?”

“To warm you up,” he said.

“Most people would offer me a cloak or a coat.”

“I have never been ‘most _people_.’”

“You’re still a person,” I said softly. “And a good one.”

Vilkas looked at me for a moment before offering the sword again. I took it and the dance began. His powerful blows were met with air and each time I tried to strike he would block, the force of it forcing me back. There was more than one time I feared Vilkas might break the practice sword.

I became aware of nothing but the two of us. Our feet, our postures, the way our bodies moved, tensing and striking. I was so absorbed that when the first snow of the season began to float down I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice the way the droplets melted as it hit our warm bodies. But it did strike me that Vilkas was almost glowing in the light coming from the forge as we fought near it, the water glittering off his skin.

That moment of distraction would have landed me on my back, my footing lost as I slipped on the wet cobblestones instead of dancing out of the way. I reached out instinctively with my non-sword hand and grabbed Vilkas by his chestpiece and he wrapped his arm around my back, the sword clattering to the ground as he dropped his weapon and I mine.

It was still just the two of us, standing with the warmth of the forge reflecting off our skin. For a moment, I couldn’t look away from his eyes, the striking brilliant silver in the firelight. When I did I noticed the white dots of snow in his thick black hair and I absent-mindedly reached out, rubbing my thumb over the strand in my hand.

“It’s snowing,” I said in wonder.

I looked back to his eyes and realized Vilkas was looking over my face. I became aware of his arm on my back, of the small distance between us. It was like the world was slowly opening up and it was the two of us, pressed together, one hand in his hair, the other on his chest.

I cleared my throat and backed up a small step.

“Sorry,” I said.

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he said.

“I was focused on you too much,” I agreed.

I flushed realizing how that sounded and looked away, trying to hide it. He didn’t say anything for several long moments of awkward silence.

“Farkas missed you,” Vilkas said. “He said you did not write him.”

“Was I supposed to?” I asked, surprised.

“It is typical of couples,” Vilkas said.

“We’re not a couple,” I said slowly, confused.

“Perhaps you should tell him that instead of leading him along,” Vilkas snapped.

“I’m not! We’re friends and we’re… I guess seeing where things go.”

“Where do you want them to go?” Vilkas said irritably. “Because I - he deserves to know.”

“What? Do you want me to go get an amulet of Mara, settle down, and start producing little mini-Farkas’s. Or are you worried he’s too dangerous? Because the first isn’t happening any time soon - I don’t care about Skyrim marriage tradition. And the latter doesn’t bother me. He’s no more dangerous than you,” I said.

Vilkas stepped forward, back into my personal space only this time he was glowering down at me.

“I _am_ dangerous.”

I looked up at him stubbornly.

“You’re my shield-brother and I refuse to be afraid of you. Or him. No matter what you say,” I said.

“Foolish -” he began but couldn’t seem to find another word.

And then he put his arm back around me which was all the warning I got before he pressed his lips to mine. I made a soft noise of surprise but before I could even consider what to do he pulled away just as fast and intensely as he’d kissed me.

“I should… go.” 

Vilkas began to walk away and I went to grab his arm but he shrugged it off.

“Your sword,” I said.

“Right.”

He went and picked it up and left me staring after him, wondering where the kiss had come from or what it meant. I pressed my fingers to my lips and once again looked out over the land beyond but I wasn’t really seeing it. My mind was remembering a harsh kiss, the feel of his stubble on my soft cheek, and a pair of striking silver eyes.


	65. The Night Mother

I was asleep, dreaming of snowflakes falling on my skin and a dark prince who I had to rescue because he’d locked himself away when I was rudely awoken. There was a woman sitting on the end of my bed and my eyes widened as she smiled at me.

Nadine. My… aunt.

She grinned at me in the dark and motioned for me to follow her. I grabbed my boots and coat and left, not wanting anyone to see her and not sure at all what she’d do if I didn’t follow her. They had promised not to kill my friends but they’d never said anything about letting me stay in the Companions if it inconvenience them.

Once outside I rushed to put on my boots, the snow on my feet chilling me. I followed her to a secluded alleyway before either of us so much as breathed loudly. 

She then turned and said, “Here.”

I caught the little brown bag on instinct, hearing the coin jingle within.

“For your contracts… and you’re trouble,” Nadine said.

“You mean almost dying,” I said deadpan.

“You really should be more careful, sister,” Nadine said.

I narrowed my eyes and outstretched my arm.

“Here,” I said. “I don’t want your money.”

“And here I thought you weren’t beyond spilling blood for money considering you do just that in the Companions often enough,” she said.

“There’s a world of difference between the two,” I said irritably.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Is there now? Hmmm…” she said.

“What do you want? You didn’t come all this way to deliver money,” I said.

“Clever girl,” Nadine said. “You are needed back at home -”

“Not my home.”

“Big changes are happening, sister,” Nadine said. “And I think you will play a key role in them.”

“I just got here, I’m not -” I began.

“‘But you will. Or -”

“Don’t,” I said. “I’ll… figure something out.”

“Already done. Now go back to your Companions,” Nadine said.

I thought of telling her how little I cared for being ordered about but before I could she had vanished into thin air.  _ Stupid invisibility spell, could have used that to get in there instead of waltzing right in like she owned the place _ .

When I got back to Jorrvaskr I sat at the table, not yet prepared for breakfast and put my head in my hands looking down at the solid, polished oak. I hated the Dark Brotherhood. Even if maybe the people in it weren’t as terrible as I thought - they did save me after all. I hated being at the beck and call of them and the Thieves’ Guild. 

“Are you alright?” Farkas said.

I looked up into the broad face of Farkas. He’d grown something of a beard since I’d been away. His brows were pinched in concern for me as he lowered himself into the seat across from me.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, lying  _ again _ .

“You,” I heard a voice bark.

I turned my attention to see the perpetually angry looking Skjor. 

“There’s a job for you.”

xxxx

The job was a dragon and for some reason I was sent alone. Too many people had requested aid from the Companions to send anyone else. Conveniently. I waited until after the soul absorbed into my body, filling me with new power and understanding before reporting to the Dark Brotherhood, ready to ask how in the world did they lure a dragon. Gods only knew how many lives could have been lost because of it. I didn’t want to ask and I determined to give the reward for the job to charity, just as I had with the contract money Nadine had given me.

It was night by the time that I entered the Sanctuary. Not that it mattered as most of the Dark Brotherhood operated at night in general. There was always someone awake. I took one last look at the beautiful Skyrim landscape, for once it was a clear night and between the trees I got a wonderful view of the stars. I found myself wondering what the Companions were doing. What Vilkas was doing. I hadn’t even had time to say anything to him with Skjor rushing me out the door. 

I took a deep breath and turned to the skull and whispered the password so that the secret door would open. It was warm inside the Sanctuary. That hit me first. It was winter in Skyrim and the underground chamber was insulated and lit by fires so that the freezing cold of the outside didn’t come in.

When I came down the stairs I walked in on everyone surrounding a coffin and… the weird little jester that had given me the chills. My hand went to my blade and then I realized the reason he had made all my instincts go off was because the madman was an assassin.

_ One of us _ . No. Not us. I wasn’t one of them. Not by choice. Not really.

“But the Night Mother is Mother to all!” the screechy little voice said in shock and outrage. “It is her will we follow, her voice! How dare you risk obedience and her… punishment?”

I blinked a few times. So… the dead lady was alive? Or was Cicero simply mad. 

“Keep talking little man,” the deep voice of Astrid’s husband said, “and we’ll see who gets “punished.””

“Hush you lumbering lapdog. You can at least be civil,” Festus said. “Mister Cicero, I am for one glad you have arrived. Your appearance signifies a return to tradition.”

I watched the conversation play out. Astrid eventually stepping in to defend the man. Which was surprising, and she seemed somewhat reluctant to do so. 

“So… he’s staying?” I said.

“He is. The Night Mother was removed to Skyrim many years ago from Cyrodiil. She is how we used to get our Contracts, but there has been no Listener, one who can supposedly hear her words, in a long time,” Astrid explained. “Come, let us talk somewhere else.”

I followed her to her little office area, glad to be removed from the screeching man and his ancient “Mother.” She then proceeded to give me my first “official” contract: one where I was to kill a thieving ex-lover. I had no choice but to accept, which meant traveling to Markarth.

“Do not worry, Sister, we will make it possible for you to go there,” she said. 

“Please don’t lure another dragon,” I said.

She only smiled at me, a gleam in her eyes. I sighed and backed away, ready to go home again, even if only for a little while.


	66. Markarth

I arrived back at Jorrvaskr and my mind instantly went back to Vilkas. I looked instinctively for him inside the hall but didn’t see him. It was just Ria eating a late lunch and waving me over. I sighed and took her up on the invitation, stomach rumbling at the sight of food. 

“Do you know where Vilkas is?” I asked, before I could think about it.

“He’s out on a job,” Ria said. “He left right after you.”

I sighed and my eyes fell to my plate. I was… disappointed. Part of me thought I should be relieved. I had no idea where the kiss had come from, had never thought that  _ Vilkas _ of all people could see me that way. Half the time I was sure he hated me. 

And what was more, I couldn’t imagine what I would say to him. I couldn’t picture Vilkas spilling secrets or saying sweet nothings or anything like that. What would he say? What would  _ I _ say? He’d probably think me a milkdrinker for wanting to  _ talk _ about it. 

And then there was -

“Farkas!” Ria said happily.

I looked at her, the way her eyes lit up as he came into the room. The thought of Vilkas like that almost made me want to laugh. No, even though I’d tried not to think about it, it was obvious Ria had feelings for Farkas and he -

He had feelings for me. Crap.

“Everlee, you’re back!” he said happily. 

He sat down beside me and I saw Ria quietly sigh more than heard her. He went to put an arm around my shoulders and I tensed. Everything had been so easy with him before but now I was tensing at his touch? Divines, I felt - I felt guilty. Even though it had been Vilkas who had kissed me. I wondered what Vilkas must feel. The one thing he made obvious was how much he loved his brother. It must be torture to know Farkas liked me too. And if  _ I  _ felt guilty about the kiss he must feel even worse.

“Is something wrong?” Farkas asked.

“No,” I said.

I physically made myself relax as I pasted on a smile. We ate the rest of the meal, Ria and Farkas filling me in on the few things I missed. Athis and Njada were fighting again and refusing to talk to each other unless it was to insult one another. I remembered them dancing and thought that at least whatever relationship I had with Vilkas wasn’t as tumultuous as theirs. Not that they were open about having a relationship if they had one. Not that I had a relationship with Vilkas.

My head began to hurt. 

After lunch, Farkas went to train with Jared. Ria and I sat at the tables side by side, watching.

“Is something wrong?” Ria asked gently.

I looked at her and bit my lip. I just couldn’t tell her about Vilkas kissing me but it was all that was on my mind now that I was back home. 

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I…”

Vilkas kissed me. Farkas liked me. Brynjolf was constantly flirting. And I was trying to just focus on keeping everyone alive. But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the other aspects of my relationships. 

Softly I said, “You really like Farkas.”

Ria looked away, blushing faintly. I sighed. It was as good a confession as any. And it had been some time since our talk of what passed for feelings. I liked Farkas, he was warm and comforting and was the first one to really make me feel at home at Jorrvaskr. I was never nervous around him and though I liked being with him - did I really have feelings beyond friendship?

Did I for  _ Vilkas _ ? Or Brynjolf?

Before I could think more on it Skjor was glaring at me.

“Job for you, just outside Markarth. It’s urgent,” he said. “Get ready to go,  _ now _ .”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Dragon.”

xxx

_ “Oh, and one more thing,” Astrid purred. “Do not kill the one who performed the Sacrament, Muiri like you did in Dawnstar. It is bad for business.” _

_ I didn’t say anything. _

_ “Or we might just take up another contract we’ve put aside. Like… the one we gave you ages ago. Or this new one that we have on that pretty thief of yours,” Astrid added. _

_ I gritted my teeth and nodded. “Understood.” _

_ “Good,” Astrid said. “And good luck, sister.” _

_ xxx _

I awoke with a start from the dream. Except it wasn’t a dream, just a memory coming back to me from the haze of near sleep. The journey to Markarth had been long and I was happy for it to be over when we arrived early in the morning. I had slept uncomfortably on the cart bench and was ready to stretch my muscles and get this over with. 

But Astrid’s words were still with me. I had to do this, no matter what the details of the request were and I had t0 do it right - or the way they wanted me to that was. Or one of my friends would pay the price for it.

My heart felt shot at the idea of a blade passing over Vilkas’s throat, an arrow through his heart. I’d had nightmares on the way as the contract weighed heavy on my mind. Even the dragon on the outskirts of town was not a distraction from them.

I was not their family, not their “sister.” Not matter how nice some of them had been to me, the fact of the matter was I didn’t want to be one of them, and only agreed because of blackmail.

Those facts didn’t make me feel any less guilty about being an assassin unfortunately. 

I was not happy to meet with Muriri or to hear that she wanted two heads for the price of one. She had said she would pay extra to kill an innocent girl to make an already suffering family suffer more because she felt wronged by them. I said nothing, now dressed in my Dark Brotherhood gear. I let her ramble on until she handed me a map with the location of her ex-lover on it who was the real target. She had performed the Black Sacrament once. She got one target. If she wanted to cause more death she’d have to pick up the knife herself.

I had changed outfits into my regular leathers and was about to leave town when a Breton man came up into the market in front of the inn and everyone standing there and drew his knife. I opened my mouth to shout a warning but it was too late as he plunged the dagger into the innocent girl’s heart.

“The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!” he cried as the guards quickly cut him down.

“I… die for my people,” the man breathed his last words before collapsing.

I stood, as stunned as everyone else. What people? And what did they have to do with the girl doing minor shopping at the stall?

“Can you believe it?” a man next to me said.

I turned my attention to another Breton man and gave him a confused shake of my head. 

“I - no - I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked, as awkward as ever.

“Eltrys,” he said. “I saw you drop this.”

“I didn’t…” I began as he handed me a note.

But he walked away and I read it. He wanted a secret meeting. I looked at the exit to Markarth and then back at the note in my hand and sighed.

_ Everyone wants something _ .

xxx

Markarth was an awful place I determined quickly. The mines sounded horrible, there was an undoubtedly haunted house front and center in the residential district, and almost everyone was suspicious and unfriendly. That was bad enough without the entire place existing like some sort of drunken maze out of Oblivion.

Eltrys had been investigating the Forsworn because his father had been killed by one and it had gone unpunished. Now another woman was dead by their hands, except the woman was actually an Imperial spy trying to buy out the mine. Now she was dead and someone named “N” was pulling all the strings.

The whole thing was crazy and I was in too deep now to stop. Who was “N?” And what was so important about the mine that someone would have her killed? Because the attack wasn’t random, my time as an assassin told me that. It was too much a coincidence for me not to believe someone had wanted her away from that mine.

So I went even further down the rabbit hole and discovered “N” stood for Neppos who was working for or simply working the Forsworn, the leader of whom was imprisoned in the mine. After fighting my way out, I decided to make my way back to Eltrys.

I cursed when I saw his dead body. I heard a voice from the shadows and went to draw my blade.

“You’re under arrest for murder,” the guard said.

There was blood on his blade. Eltrys blood.

And then I heard the door behind me lock. I could attempt to kill the guard but that likely meant facing down all the others and who knew how far the conspiracy went. I swallowed hard, dug my feet in.

I couldn’t be arrested. I had the Dark Brotherhood gear in my pack. 

“Try me.”

The men came forward and I shouted at them, causing one to stumble and fall. I took my sword and plunged it down into his chest before moving over him, my blade swirling faster than they could keep up with. My movements were sharp and precise compared to their blunt swings and blocks. It wasn’t long before I killed the rest of them and grabbed the key as well.

Then I ran, stumbling over the uneven cobbles as I heard a guard shout in surprise. They knew. They knew I was to be arrested for something I didn’t do. And worse I could hear them shouting.

“Get her! Get the Dovakiin!”

They knew who I was. 

I ran for the door, shoving my whole body at the heavy gate just to get enough space for me to squeeze out. I was sprinting when I heard the first arrow fly. It went over my head. The second landed in my left shoulder and I cried out. I reached the stables, desperately swinging onto a horse. I could practically hear the stories now. 

_ Dovakiin Companion turned murderer and horse thief _ . 

But that was in the Reach. I would leave and I knew I had the protection I needed in Whiterun. I had saved them and was sure I could convince the Jarl of my innocence so he wouldn’t have me expedited. 

My mind was working over time with my heart racing and I urged the horse into a run. Better an outlaw than they find out I was a Thief or a Dark Brotherhood member. Likely the Companions would kick me out if I refused to leave and if I left I doomed them to assassination. The choice would kill me either way.

I felt another arrow dig in to my back and cried out again. Too close to something vital for me to relax. A hair’s breadth from a swift death. I begged the horse to move faster as I rode.

And rode.

And rode.

Until there was silence. No more shouting at me to stop or at others to attack. Just silence.

I could feel warm blood on my back and sliding down my side. I leaned down on the horse as he fell into a trot, needing to rest but afraid of stopping. I tried to keep my eyes open but they kept falling shut. I felt the rhythmic movement of the horse under me and my eyes finally fell shut one last time.


	67. Complicated

_ Vilkas _

She was always getting into trouble. Giants and vampires and whatever mess she’d gotten into outside Windhelm. Still, hearing that her name had a bounty attached for  _ murder _ was not something he could have pictured finding her in. When he heard of her escape - and word had traveled fast inside the damned city, he immediately gave his own job up and went to look for her.

She shouldn’t even  _ be _ in Markarth, he thought. The dragon had been seen at a farm well outside the city and he hadn’t heard it getting close enough to be more than a peripheral fear for the city. He reasoned that she might have decided to rest at the inn but then how did that explain the charge for murder of one man an three guards?

_ Damn it, what have you done, Everlee? _

Following the trail outside the city on his rented horse, he half expected to find a stranger who had stolen her name. Perhaps hoped he had. Then he’d take the scoundrel back, clear her name, and she might not even be all the wiser about the affair. But it wasn’t long before he found a horse meandering in the road, and in the ditch next to it was a mass of brown hair, face down.

Vilkas leaped from his horse and pulled her up, sharp pain in his chest knocking the breath out of him as he turned her over. He breathed when he saw she was breathing, grateful the divot wasn’t filled with water or she’d have surely drowned.

And he’d never have seen her again. Never have saw her smile or the way her eyes lit up when she was about to do something bold. He would never see the honest way she looked at him, unafraid, unintimidated. She had never backed away from him, not even after finding out what he was. Not even after he’d kissed her.

It had been him that left and now he cursed everything in the world that he had. 

“Everlee,” he said, voice rough, almost breaking under the weight of what he was feeling.

She didn’t wake and he carefully moved her onto his lap. He unfastened the top of her armor and put it aside before laying her across him. He ripped her shirt around the arrows carefully, his mind focused solely on healing her (and not the perfect smoothness of her skin). Then he took a sharp breath in, removing an arrow and she gasped but didn’t startle all the way awake. He removed the second. Then he removed his armor and shirt, tearing off the bottom to staunch the wound, feeling stupid he hadn’t done it first, that his head was all out of sorts. He bandaged her as best he could then carefully pulled his shirt over her, facing her away from him out of a sense of decency and then he attached her bag to his horse before carrying her to it and carefully sliding first her then himself onto the beast’s back. He held her against his chest carefully and securely before setting his sights toward home.

xxx

Vilkas hated that he didn’t find a healer on the way home but she made it safely to Whiterun and there he knew she’d be well taken care of. Word hadn’t yet reached the city about the dragonborn accumulating a bounty on her head (for murder his mind reminded him) and he didn’t know what to do with that information himself. He honestly didn’t  _ care _ , might never care if she wasn’t healed and quickly.

Vilkas confided everything to Kodlak while a healer was sent for. He hated being away from her but this was necessary.

“What could she have been thinking?” Vilkas asked.

“We do not know the whole story,” Kodlak said.

Vilkas sighed. He was right but that didn’t make it any easier. He wanted answers. Why had she been in that mess? Why had she nearly gotten herself killed wrapped up in it?

When he went back to his room (where he’d placed her), he saw Farkas and Ria there, keeping watch. The healer wasn’t there yet and Vilkas stood in the doorway. His brother, whose face was normally lit up with a smile, was looking serious, looking like  _ Vilkas _ . He was clearly worried and Ria was talking quietly with him, comforting him. 

Which must have been odd for her given her obvious feelings toward Farkas. Farkas hadn’t known, probably would never figure it out without the girl telling him and she didn’t seem to be ready to do that. So he hadn’t needed to get involved. He hadn’t had anything to worry about.

With Everlee everything was different. His brother had taken to her so quickly, and if anything could be said of his brother it was that he knew his own mind. He could hear Aela add because he was simple which wasn’t the right word for it. 

At least, not in some senses. He wasn’t simple but he made everything simple. He wanted not to shift so he didn’t. He wanted to fight, so he’d fight. He felt something for Everlee so he told her. Farkas wasn’t simple, he simplified.

And Vilkas was everything complicated. He was torn between the Hunt and Sovngarde. He held anger, righteous and he wanted to act on but Kodlak urged him toward patience when he wanted action. And he - he felt something for Everlee and he hated it. He hated that he felt he couldn’t love her without putting her in danger. He hated that even if he could he could never bring himself to take her from Farkas. He hated that maybe that made him a coward, that he wouldn’t fight for her.

Because that kiss… So short, so much more he wanted. He wanted her to wake up so he could hold her and scold her and everything complicated from feeling for her. He wanted to kiss her again, to pour all the twisted feelings and thoughts into it and see if she kissed him back. He wondered if maybe that would be like dueling her, heart racing, senses heightened, everything but her gone.

“Vilkas are you alright?” Ria asked. “Your eyes are… wet.”

She sounded surprised and Vilkas cleared his throat but almost immediately afterward someone behind him did the same and he turned and stepped aside to let the healer through. 


End file.
